


The Legacy of Betrayal

by RiaJade01



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, don't worry i'll fix it, started as a fix-it and is now its own mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:05:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiaJade01/pseuds/RiaJade01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn's act of betrayal brings out the worst in everyone, but somehow an ill-advised attempt to escape a bad situation turns out surprisingly okay.  Eventually. </p><p>Update, 8/29/2017: I've decided to mark this fic as complete. I started this very quickly after finishing the warrior story, but after a long hiatus from the game and, well... my understanding of the characters wasn't the greatest and I realized pretty far in I wasn't fond of the direction it went overall. Rather than try to smoosh it back into a shape I like, I'm marking this as finished - consider it an AU of sorts - and will be starting a different mainverse fic soon. (Truly, the first few chapters are written, but I'm trying to finish Courtship and Lies before I get too distracted.) This will always hold a special place in my heart as my first-ever published fic, but I want to do something better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am highly Zahn-inspired, as evidenced by my Sith Warrior's name.

A purple blur flashed through the power core, and with a final sputter of blaster fire, the last droid fell dark and collapsed under its own weight. 

A miscalculation, Mara realized; she had dealt the deathblow standing immediately in front of one of its blaster arms as it fired its final shot.  Force-assisted reflexes sent her rolling elegantly to the side, quickly enough to avoid a point blank blast to the chest, but too slowly to avoid being grazed by its turbolaser-grade blasters.  Dimly, through the maelstrom of emotions roaring through her mind, she was aware of the pain in her right side and the smell of burning flesh.  She would need to deal with that quickly when she returned to the Fury.  But first….

She whirled toward the epicenter of the emotional maelstrom in the room that was not her own.  He stood a few meters away from her, dashing in his impeccably-pressed and tailored Imperial uniform, dark hair still perfectly parted, his blaster arm brandishing the sidearm that she had given him as a wedding gift.  

Captain Malavai Quinn, Executive Officer of her ship, and for two years now, her husband.  The man she’d trusted with her missions, her ship and its crew, and her heart, and he’d just tried, very violently, to kill her.  He was under orders from her former master, Darth Baras, to whom he’d been sworn all along.

Of course, the attempted assassination was a Malavai Quinn special: the planning had been meticulous and explained to her, in a level of detail that defied all logic, just before the droids opened fire.  He had designed the droids just for her, building them to best her strengths and exploit her weaknesses, which he had methodically catalogued in his years of service to her.

The sight of him enraged her further.  The asshole had _ fired at her _ .  With a blaster  _ she had given him _ .  Without flexing a muscle she lashed out with the Force and plucked the blaster from his hand.  The look on his face as the blaster slowly collapsed on itself, popping and crackling with the release of tabana gas, brought a feral smile to her face. The resulting metal sphere arced toward her and landed neatly in her free hand.  It was still warm from the blaster’s use.

“I.. I don’t understand. My calculations were painfully precise.” 

It was such a Quinn thing to say.  Defeated, a confirmed traitor to his own wife, but his first worry was that the quality of his work had suffered.  Under other circumstances it might have been endearing.  Not today.  

“ _ That’s _ what you’re worried about?”  She threw the metal sphere at him, hitting him squarely in the gut.  He gasped and doubled over slightly, but made no move to defend himself.

That, too, was a very Quinn thing to do: meekly accept punishment meted out by his lord.  His submission stoked her fury.  She raised her free hand and yanked him forward with the Force.  The toes of his boots squealed across the floor until his neck slammed into her palm.  Long red fingers closed around his throat, but even the feel of his carotid artery straining against her fingertips could not calm her.  She snarled and and slammed his back into the deck plating.  She heard a couple of his ribs crack, felt the pain blossom across his sense, along with something else: resignation.  

Quinn’s face was turning pink, and though his body struggled against her hold, it was all involuntary.  He was prepared to die by her hand.  When their eyes met, her incandescent rage was replaced by a quiet, bone-deep sadness so suddenly that she heard herself gasp.  Her hand opened, and he inhaled raggedly.  Mara straightened and staggered back a few steps.

Oh gods, she’d nearly killed him.  

She had a duty, to herself and to the Empire, to kill him.  

Did he deserve such an easy end?

Did she have it in her to kill him painfully?

Why did the thought of killing him hurt so much?

With shaking hands she closed down her lightsaber and put it back on her belt.  She couldn’t do it.  Shame at her own weakness felt like a vice around her chest, but there was nothing for it.  She couldn’t bear to see him dead, even now.

Quinn sat up slowly, still rubbing at his bruised neck, his eyes wide with disbelief. “My lord,” he croaked,  “I betrayed you, conspired with your most hated enemy.  I… did not expect your mercy.  Darth Baras would never have shown me such forgiveness.”

Mara took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. “Whether this is mercy remains to be seen, Malavai.  And it is certainly not forgiveness.”

“I know it makes no difference to say it, but I deeply regret my actions, my lord.”

She could tell he meant it; two emotions radiated out from him, shame, and immense relief that he’d failed in his task.  But even so, she let out an exasperated sigh.  

“Which part do you regret most?  Lying to me about your loyalties?  Cataloging my endurance or lack thereof while you fucked me in order to report back to your master?  Willingly attempting to end my life?  Or allowing me to become my husband’s murderer?” Fury accelerated her heart rate as she finished the list.  

“My lord-”

“Come, Malavai.  You’ve tried to kill me; at least do me the courtesy of using my given name.  I am your wife, after all.  Or does it make it less egregious a betrayal if you think of me as your Sith Lord only?”  Her voice was brittle, bitter.

At the word “wife” his shame spiked.  It  _ was _ harder to think of himself as murdering the woman he loved.  If he loved her; that was a question she would ask on a different day.

“Mara…” he breathed.  Before now, hearing her name on his lips had filled her with warmth and the sizzling promise of pleasure to come.  Now it was a funeral dirge.  “Mara, my love, I am so, very sorry.”  He took a step forward, his hand outstretched.

She snarled and backed away hurriedly. Her hand twitched toward her lightsaber hilt.  He froze.  She forced her hand back to her side but turned away from him; the compassion on his face was infuriating.  She truly did not want to put her lightsaber through his guts.  Probably.

“Captain, you will return to the ship and prep it for immediate departure to Corellia.  I will follow shortly.  Do not think we are done discussing this”  She had to get away from him.  Compose herself before spending another unknown number of days confined on her ship with him.

“Yes, my lord.” He snapped back to formality. “Ah, my lord… will you be telling the crew about this?”

Mara closed her eyes, her hands flexing at her sides.  By the Force, did he always have this talent for saying the worst possible thing?  Or was it simply impossible to say a right thing to the spouse you just tried to murder?

“Be at ease, Captain,” she said acidly.  “If I told the crew, Jaesa and Vette would put you out an airlock, and Pierce and Broonmark would turn on me for my weakness.  Since I am both attached to my life and inexplicably opposed to ending yours, your secret is safe with me.”

“Now, please. Leave.”  She put a touch of the Force into her voice.  He made no reply, and she heard his footsteps moving away.

As the sound of his steps disappeared, she slid gratefully to her knees, into a meditation form.  She groped for calm, cataloging and filing each of her myriad feelings about this event away for future use.  Describing this process to other Sith always earned her some scorn, but she found it most effective to be able to call upon the most appropriate fuel for her Force connection while in battle, as opposed to waiting for sudden emotion to strike.

Today’s battle had been not just against the droids and her husband, but against her own roiling thoughts.  Quinn had tested her more than he knew.

She had no sense of the passage of time when she meditated.  She must have been there for some time, though, because as she opened her eyes Vette and Pierce were cautiously entered the bay she was kneeling in, weapons drawn, apparently searching for her.  Quinn had been smart enough not to come himself.

“My lord!” Pierce lowered his blaster rifle in obvious relief. An abrasive mountain of a man, she was suddenly endeared to him largely because he stood in constant opposition to Quinn’s sense of propriety aboard ship.  “We had begun to worry.  It’s been over an hour since your Captain came back.  Figured he’d finally crawled away from a nasty fight and left you for dead.”

_ Close _ , she thought. 

“Nothing so dramatic, Lieutenant,” she replied, slowly getting to her feet.  “I simply desired more quiet than I could be granted aboard ship to meditate on what we are likely to face on Corellia,” she said instead.

“Are… you sure?” Vette asked.  Her eyes were moving between the deck and Mara’s torso, her blue skin starting to look a bit green.

“What?”

Pierce followed Vette’s gaze, and swore.

Mara looked down in confusion, ran her hands over her torso.  She found the charred, seeping flesh on her left side and froze, lifting her arm to see the injury better.

Looking at it was a mistake.  The pain that had been held back by adrenaline and the Force rolled over her in waves when she was presented with visual proof of the injury.  Her armor was charred to her skin at the edges of the wound.  Toward the center, she could see the glint of bone through her cooked flesh.  The deck next to where she’d meditated was puddled with blood.

The pain crescendoed and she doubled over, gasping.  Vette and Pierce were at her side as her knees hit the deck plating.  Pierce holstered his blaster rifle and scooped her up.

“No,” she muttered through clenched teeth.  “No, I can walk, just help me.”  She could not,  _ would not _ let Quinn see her carried back on board unconscious.  She reached out to the Force, fighting to keep her vision clear.  It was a losing battle  “Lieutenant, put me down this instant.”

“Begging your pardon, m’lord, but shut the kriff up and let me get you back to your ship.”  He was trotting easily toward the airlock.

They were nearly there, and darkness had nearly filled her vision.  She lunged over and grabbed Vette’s arm.  The motion earned her a fresh stab of pain.  

“Hold still!” Vette snapped.

“Vette, wait.”  Mara lowered her voice and pressed her mouth to Vette’s ear. “Keep Quinn away from me.”  It was part plea, part growl.

Vette looked at her shrewdly for half a second before giving her a tiny nod.  Mara relaxed in Pierce’s grip, or would have if unconsciousness had not taken her.

 

***

 

Quinn was on the bridge of the Fury, ostensibly running checks on the ship, but they’d been ready to leave for nearly half an hour.  Now he brooded on his actions of the past few hours and tried not to breathe hard enough to aggravate his ribs.  To his relief, his uniform collar hid most of the bruises running around his neck.  He needed a bacta patch to help his ribs knit back together, but hadn’t worked out yet the best way to sneak one and apply it in private without entering the quarters he shared with his wife.  

He wasn’t quite sure where they stood after today, and he didn’t want to presume.

Truthfully he did not know why he was still alive.  He had seen his lord display mercy before to her enemies.  Even though he questioned her logic at times, it was a quality he loved about her:  Her willingness to grant second chances to those willing to serve.  

His betrayal was considerably more… intimate, however, and he could not account for the pain that flashed across her face as his life drained away from him, just before she let him go.  He hoped to ask her about it someday.  For now, the memory of it remained burned into his mind.  

He had memorized his wife’s face over the years; the deep red of her skin, typical of Sith purebloods, the scars that ran across one of her amber-colored eyes.  The way she’d smiled when she agreed to marry him.  The smirk and twinkle in her eyes as she teased him to the brink of pleasure.  In their years together, and all the injuries she’d taken in battle, never had he seen a look of such profound hurt on her face.  And he had brought her that pain.

He was a prat.  And he’d badly miscalculated how he felt about her and his duty to Darth Baras.  He knew it would be a long road, but he fully intended to rebuild the trust they’d had together.

The sound of footsteps pounding toward the airlock shook him out of his thoughts.  Alarmed, he drew his blaster - a different one from his collection - and moved stealthily toward the common area of the ship.  He was fairly certain the starship he’d chosen for his trap was now cleared of hostile droids, but one couldn't be too careful.

Pierce’s voice relaxed him, somewhat.  Quinn shoved his blaster back in its holster.  What was the fool yelling about now?

“Jaesa get the medbay ready!” 

Quinn started and took the last few steps down the corridor at a run.  He skidded into the common area to see the lieutenant come around the corner with an unconscious form in his arms.  He couldn’t see an injury, but her legs were soaked in blood from the knees down.

No.

“Mara!” Quinn rushed forward, fully intending to wrestle his wife’s unconscious body out of the loud oaf’s arms.   _ Kriff, I should never have left her out there… what in blazes happened? _

He ran into a wall of Vette.

“Not so fast, Captain Tightpants,”  she said, placing a hand on his chest and shoving him back toward the bridge.  “She gave orders to get under way before she dropped unconscious.  And she’ll be pissed if you ignore them.  Let’s go.”

“That is insane.”  He batted at the twi’lek’s arm in annoyance, but it didn’t move   He fixed Vette with a murderous glare. “Get out of my way.”

Vette stared him down and leaned forward. “She told me,” she whispered.  

Quinn’s blood turned to ice.   _ She swore not to tell _ , he thought, then immediately felt ashamed of the thought.  

He must have blanched, for Vette nodded in satisfaction and continued in a low voice, “We can discuss it here where Jaesa and Pierce will hear every word, or we can go to the kriffing bridge.”

Quinn paused, his eyes on the medbay door where Pierce had disappeared with Mara.  He considered his options.  Fortunately, there were no airlocks on the bridge.

Vette’s face softened. “Quinn, she’ll be all right.  Now come on.”

Quinn slowly turned and let himself be herded back to the bridge.

Vette sat down in one of the copilot chairs and put her feet on the console. Quinn rolled his eyes, refusing to be bated.

“So, spill it, Captain.  What happened?”

He gasped.  “You said she told you!”  He consciously kept his hands away from his blaster.  

Vette barked a laugh, a bitter sound he’d never heard from her before.

“She tore a bigger hole in her side telling me to keep you away from her.”  

“Ah.”  Quinn felt sick.

“Look, I don’t know what the hell happened back there, but it’s pretty obvious you at least caused it, and maybe even left her injured on purpose.  This is for that, by the way.” 

Vette leapt up with a speed that astonished him, the butt of her blaster flashed across his face.  Quinn staggered but remained standing.

“Whatever it was, she’s got the biggest blaster burn I’ve ever seen.”  Vette turned away from him to pace, before turning back to him, her lip curled in a barely-contained snarl.  “ And I lied, I don’t know if she’ll be okay.  I saw  _ bone _ , Quinn.  What the fuck did you do to her?”

Quinn rubbed his face and tried out several phrases before opening his mouth to speak.  He couldn’t defend his actions, but he would not hold back if it meant saving Mara’s life.  Even if meant saving her from him.

“Please understand, I did not know she was injured when she ordered me to return to the ship. But I... did design the battle droids she faced.”  Walking to a console, he picked up his secured datapad and pulled up a schematic.  Vette looked like she wanted to punch him again.

"Tell you what, you tell me everything you know about the weapon that did that to her, and if Jaesa can save her life, I’ll respect whatever bizarre wish that made her let you live.  If she dies, though...”

Quinn nodded.  “It might comfort you to know that, if she dies, I’ll willingly throw myself out of whatever airlock you wish.”  

He swallowed and began an abbreviated briefing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara insulates Quinn from the crew and tries to get back in fighting shape for Corellia. Vette is awesome. Broonmark... exists?

“Captain?”

Tentative hands shook Quinn gently.  He lurched awake and found himself looking into the eyes of Jaesa Willsaam, Mara’s young Alderaanian apprentice.  He looked around and started; he’d dozed off in the galley, a now-cold cup of caf in front of him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Captain.  Master Mara is awake, and she is asking for you.”

“For me? You’re sure?”  He suppressed a wince as the words left his mouth.

Jaesa’s dark brows drew together in confusion.  “Yes, sir, of course.”  Her eyes widened in what she thought was understanding. “Oh, Captain, she doesn’t blame you for her injury.  She knows you obeyed her orders to return to the ship without her.”

“That is… a relief Jaesa, thank you.  How is the burn?”

Quinn rose and followed Jaesa the few steps to the medbay entrance.  To his surprise, the apprentice paused outside the door without opening it.

“It was quite bad, I’m afraid, but with Master Mara’s guidance I was able to speed her healing process along.  She is going to be fine.  But…”  She trailed off.  

“Yes?”

“Captain, Master Mara is unwilling to delay our arrival on Corellia.  She says your mission timetable is too tight, but sir, she needs at least three more days of rest and a week of rehabilitation for the wound to truly heal.  Our current schedule puts us on Corellia in two days.  Will you speak to her?  She will listen to you.”

“I will try, but unfortunately I believe our lord is correct in her assessment of the situation.”

“Please try.”

Jaesa keyed the medbay door open.  “Captain Quinn, as you asked, Master.”

“Send him in, Jaesa, and leave us in privacy.”

Jaesa motioned him in, and the door slid shut behind him.

His stomach clenched painfully when he saw her on the cot.  At first glance, she could have been lounging on their bed on a normal day.  Her hair, usually wound in a bun, hung in long, reddish-black waves over her shoulders.  She had been stripped of her armor to treat the wound, and instead now she wore a soft robe she favored during her times off-duty.  Her left leg, long and muscular and red, contrasted starkly against the white sheets of the cot and the grey fabric of her robe, a tattoo starting at the outside of her knee and working its way up her thigh, disappearing under the robe.  He’d followed its sinuous lines with his mouth on more than one occasion.

Any semblance of normality ended there, though.  He could see the edges of what must have been a massive bacta patch sticking out of the opening of her robe, and her skin, normally a deep red, had a grey tinge to it.  Her amber eyes were tired, even from this distance.

For a moment he forgot that he had caused her injuries.  He rushed to her side, one hand instinctively reaching to cradle her cheek while the other went for her hand.  He caught himself millimeters from touching her. He halted awkwardly.  Her face was so composed he shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

“May I?”  He asked, motioning toward her hand.

She looked down at her hands for a moment and back at him, as if confused by the gesture.  Then, to his eternal relief, she reached one hand out to him.  

He took it in both of his and held on for dear life.

 

His relief as she offered him her hand was so strong it nearly overwhelmed her senses.  It surprised her; did he truly think after what he did a single hand-squeeze would set them to rights?  No matter, she would disabuse him of that notion soon enough.

She knew she looked like hell, but from the way he blanched when he saw her, it must have been worse than she thought.  He looked worse for wear as well; the bruises around his neck had darkened, and he moved gingerly to protect his ribs.  He had a nasty bruise on his right temple that she had not inflicted.  His uniform was uncharacteristically rumpled, as if he’d slept in it.  According to Vette, he had.  She fought the urge to draw him closer, to feel his warmth against her.

During past injuries, his presence had always sped her convalescence.  Another comfort he’d torn from her in the last 24 hours.

“Please sit,” she said.

“I… I am surprised you wanted to see me, my lord,” he said, pulling a chair next to her cot and sitting down.

“What choice do I have?  You have put me in a difficult position, Malavai.”  His face fell at that.  “I have to secure this ship against an internal threat - you - but no one but myself and Vette can be aware that threat exists.”

“My lord, I assure you I am no threat to you.  You shall never have cause to question my loyalty again.”  His face was pained, pleading.

She cocked her head at him.  “How is that statement any different from any other professions of love or loyalty you’ve given me in the past?  What makes it true today when we both know it was a lie yesterday?”  She yanked her hand out of his and he flinched.  “What would you have me do, ignore the threat you pose to my ship and crew?  Could you _respect_ me if I did?”

“My love for you is no-”

She held up a hand, cutting him off.  “No.  No, you do not get to say that to me.  I am not ready for that.”  She lowered her hand, ignoring the pain the movement caused.  She took a deep breath.

“Effective immediately, Vette is acting as your commanding officer.  You will report to her, and she will report to me.  Right now she is on the bridge revoking your command codes  and instating a firewall that will allow you to perform your daily duties without accessing any sensitive areas of the ship’s computer.”

He stiffened, glared at her.  “You’re _demoting_ me?”

“Fuck, yes I am.  And if you have a problem with that extremely sensible action, you can tell the entire crew what you’ve done and I will ship you back to Dromund Kaas for your court martial.  I will wear something breathtakingly exquisite to your execution and the last thing you will see of this life is Pierce’s hands down my dress.”

Quinn jerked as if she’d struck him. She took a deep breath, guilt panging her for that last sentence.  It was petty, and not going to create a solution to this mess.  On the other hand, it felt good; petty may well be the closest thing she’d feel to joy for the foreseeable future.  

She began again, gentler this time.  Despite herself she reached out a hand and touched his cheek.

“This is how it will be, Malavai.  Against every instinct, I want to believe that this was just… an aberration.  But I cannot be sure.  I must protect this crew.” She hesitated, wincing as her side spasmed. “I have to protect myself, too.  Trust takes time to rebuild, and you will meet my terms if you intend to stay.”

He nodded and looked away.

“There is more.  You will bring every instrument you have used to contact Baras or his associates - every file, every shred of data you have - to Vette and me.  I understand you were alone on the bridge for over an hour yesterday, until…” _Until Pierce dragged me home like a sack of vegetables, ruining any plans I had for dignity in this._ “Until Pierce brought me back.  Did you delete anything, anything at all, from the ship’s or your own personal databanks during that time?”

“No, my lord.  I was… indisposed.”

His sense did not flash with anything that felt like deception.  Still, she reached out and grabbed his chin roughly, holding his gaze and searching with the Force.  He swallowed but met her eyes steadily. “Vette is checking both databank backups to confirm what you have said.  Take care you are not lying to me in this.  I have spared you out of love, but I have my limits.”

She sat back.  “Vette will be here soon to escort you to our quarters and the bridge to gather everything up. You will walk us through accessing every byte of data, and if I sense any tiny amount of duplicity in you during this process, you will be shipped back to Dromund Kaas in disgrace.  To the others it will look like we are revising our mission plan to accommodate for my injury.”  

“I will do as you ask, my lord, “ he said curtly.

“Good.  I gather from Vette that you have been avoiding our quarters. Please don’t do that.  As… awkward… as this will be for us both, we must keep up our appearances lest the rest of the crew suspect the rift between us.”

“Except Vette.”

“Except Vette.  I understand that I violated what I said to you yesterday.” She could not keep the smirk from her face.  As if she would apologize for making him slightly uncomfortable. “But bringing her into this became a necessity the moment I realized how injured I was.”

“I would have tended you, Mara,” he said quietly, his hands clenching hers tightly, his blue eyes burning.  “I understand I have hurt you and betrayed you, but I would have helped you.  I would have stayed by your side all night.”  His sincerity was like a beacon.

He did not seem to understand how deeply confusing that statement was.  “I believe you,” she replied solemnly.  “I can feel your clarity of purpose, your love for me.”

He began to relax, and her grip on his hands tightened like a vice until his knuckles cracked.  He gasped.

“But if this is how you feel for me, dear, why did you do this?  What does Baras hold over you?  What could he possibly do to you that I can’t protect you from, that we could not overcome together?”

“My lord… Mara… please,” he pleaded.

She loosened her grip, pulled away. “I will drop it for now, but if you want to have any hope of restoring my trust, you will want to have honest answers to those questions ready when I ask again.”

“Lastly, we need to tend to your wounds.  Jaesa cannot know about them, and I’m the only other Force healer on this ship.  So.”  She carefully swung her legs over the edge of the cot.  Reached for him, clenched her teeth around a moan when her side protested.  Kriff, this was humiliating.

Quinn was next to her, trying to ease her back into bed.  “My love, please.  Let me wear my wounds; they are no less than I deserve.”

Mara rolled her eyes.  “Self flagellation is not a luxury you have, Malavai.  One of us needs to be at full strength when we arrive on Corellia, and thanks to you, it will not be me.”

His eyes widened, “Me?  My lord, I am of much better use to you on the ship.”

“No, you’re a security risk and I will be keeping you where I can see you.  Vette is in charge while we are gone.  Now please stop making this difficult and move closer.”

He clenched his jaw, but did as he was told and shifted within arms’ reach for her.  She reached out and began undoing the buttons of his jacket.  Her fingers were less nimble than usual, and it took her awhile of working in silence to get through the truly ridiculous number of buttons included on a standard issue field commander’s jacket.

As she undid the last one, she realized Quinn’s hands had at some point moved to her sides, just under her armpits, gently supporting her as she worked.  His hands felt warm, comforting, through her robe.  His thumbs traced idle, unconscious circles along the sides of her breasts.  He shrugged out of the jacket, one arm at a time, revealing a crisp white undershirt beneath.  It hugged the curves of his muscles, left his arms bare.

The sight had always excited her.  To her everlasting shame, she felt her heart quicken against her ribs.  She looked up into his eyes and saw her sudden hunger reflected there.  

“I hate you so much right now,” she growled.

He averted his eyes.  “I am sorry, my love.  Very, deeply sorry.”

That was… not what she had hoped he’d say.  Her desire deflated.  She sighed frustratedly and moved her hands up to his neck, laying her palms across the bruises and calling upon the Force to smooth them away.

 

***

 

The next forty-eight hours passed quickly.  Mara spent most of the first day in a healing trance, assisted at regular intervals by Jaesa.  She paused only to meet with Quinn and Vette, pouring over Quinn’s data while Mara wolfed down what felt like her body weight in meal rations.  In the wee hours of the morning of the ship’s cycle on the second day, she consented to her body’s demands for a few hours of real sleep.  Healing was resource-intensive for even the best healers, and Mara’s skills in that area barely qualified as mediocre.  Despite what she’d said to Quinn about appearances, she opted to sleep in the medbay.  She could use that excuse for now, and truthfully she was not ready to be alone in their quarters with him.  

She awoke the morning of the second day feeling, if not refreshed, at least able to stand.  It was a low bar, she reflected bitterly, but she limped over it as best she could.

She went to her quarters and bathed, changed the bacta patch on her side, and dressed in loose clothes to begin training.  She could feel the tension rolling out of the bridge where Quinn and Vette were working.  Quinn had always thought of Vette as a silly creature, and Mara realized now she had not quashed that opinion of his strongly enough.  While she did not have Quinn’s odd enjoyment of administrative detail, Vette was fully capable of running the Fury on her own and had reserves of durasteel that always surprised those who took her sarcasm and easy demeanor for weakness.  Mara suspected part of Quinn’s anger today was his realization that, with Vette on board, he was indeed replaceable, at least in his official capacity.

Mara made a mental note to give Vette a raise.

The rest of the second day was spent training with Broonmark.  Of everyone on board, he best understood not to go easy on her, and he spoke little.  It was nearly soothing, except for how badly the first few hours went.  She found herself limping back to the medbay just before mid-day.  Vette and Quinn were sitting in the common area surrounded by datapads when she shuffled through, breathing through clenched teeth.  The uncharacteristic calm between them exploded when they saw her.

Quinn looked like he wanted to stand, but Mara shot him a look that kept him in his seat.   _You do not get to make yourself feel better by helping me convalesce_ , she thought.

“Kriff, Mara, you let that giant fuzzball beat you to a pulp,” Vette said.  Mara allowed Vette to slide an arm under her shoulders, supporting her as she hobbled toward the medbay.  

“Don’t be silly, Vette.  I didn’t _let_ him do anything.  I fought valiantly.  I’m sure he is composing an epic in honor of my heroism as we speak.”

Neither of them laughed.  “Going through with this is a really bad idea,” Vette said quietly.

“I must concur with Vette, my lord,” Quinn said quietly.

Mara looked back and forth at each of them.  “Well this is unexpectedly... domestic.”

“Vette has skills that rival some of the best intelligence analysts I’ve worked with during my service.  Despite our… personality differences,” He shot Vette an annoyed look, but there was respect in it, too, “we make a good team.”

Mara’s eyebrows shot up.  She felt nothing but sincerity from him, but she couldn’t help but view the admission with a bit of skepticism.  She shifted to look down at Vette.

“Quinn has definitely been easier to work with than I thought,” Vette responded with a wicked grin.  “But don’t worry, I’ll still punch him for you whenever you want.”

Quinn’s face was so miffed that Mara laughed.  She couldn’t help herself.  His sense darkened from miffed to angry, setting her off even more.

Her laughter turned to a shocked groan when pain burned through her side.  She staggered against Vette.  “I need to go see Jaesa,” she ground out.  “You two keep working.”

The rest of the day was better.  After several hours in a healing trance, she dressed fully in her armor and went for a second sparring session with Broonmark.  That moment of levity, superficial as it was, seemed to have restored some of her balance.  Instead of flashing to her mind unbidden, the raging current of feelings she had built up over the past two days stayed within her control, waxing and waning as she called upon them.  She still tired faster than she liked, but by the end of the second session she sent the poor alien sailing through two doorways, sliding on his back along the deck plating to rest in the common area of the ship.  She flew after him, propelled in a Force-assisted leap, landing in a crouch over his chest, her lightsaber point centimeters from his throat.

Her grunt of satisfaction turned into a wheeze as she fought to straighten.  Still, with less than eight hours until they arrived at Corellia, it would have to do.  She was ready.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Mara find Corellia exhilarating, in more ways than one. This is smut, I have no excuses. Name-borrowing from Zahn continues. Trigger warning for coercive sex; Mara is not really respecting her husband's boundaries these days.

It had been awhile since Quinn had accompanied has wife on one of her missions - lately she had been taking Jaesa as part of the apprentice’s training, while Quinn stayed in touch and handled logistics and intelligence analysis.  He had forgotten what it was to see Mara work.  Being in her ear was nothing like being by her side.

He still slept only fitfully, and woke in a panic remembering what he’d done.  Their first night together in their quarters he’d lain awake, while Mara slept peacefully by his side.  He could not quite tell what she needed him to do to make things right.  She had, on some level, always been a bit puzzling to him, but now that puzzle carried a threat that had not been there before. 

Landing on Corellia and re-entering the war effort was a blessing; it gave them a common goal, and reminded him of how well they complemented one another in battle.  They arrived to find the Imperial Army backpedalling in its conquest of the planet and Darth Baras’s assassins still half a step ahead of them.  In a matter of days Mara had swept in and reconsolidated their forces, directing their offense to expand control beyond the capital of Coronet City while also deftly handling Darbin Sull, the twerp of a government official the Empire had chosen as Corellia’s next prime minister.  She found and put down the first assassin.  

They were camped in a ruined office building at the edge of Labor Valley, the site of the next phase of their campaign, four nights after their arrival.  Quinn was looking over scouting reports and other intelligence in preparation for the next day.  The room hummed with conversation as the soldiers broke into their evening rations.  He looked up to see Mara moving among them, pausing to speak to each group, inclining her head in response to their salutes like a benevolent queen.  

She had removed her heavy outer armor, revealing a lighter layer beneath that left her midriff bare, the wound in her side having healed to a relatively unobtrusive scar.  More than a few of their soldier’s eyes drank in her bare skin with a fervor Quinn did not really care for. One of those was Lieutenant Bel Iblis, leader of the squadron and one of the last individuals Mara spoke to who sheepishly, but adoringly, offered her a bottle.  

“Why, Lieutenant, this is a fine whiskey.”  

The room froze; alcohol was strictly forbidden while on duty.  Quinn rose, setting his datapad aside, his gaze pinning Bel Iblis to the floor.  “My lord, I apologize for the Lieutenant’s behavior.”

“I appreciate that, Captain, and I could not agree more,” her lips curved in a sly smile that left Quinn’s throat dry, “It isn’t quite so fine as our soldiers, here, but I suppose it’s the best we can get.”  She looked around the room and raised her voice, “Lieutenant Bel Iblis, your breach of protocol will be forgiven this once, provided there is enough left in this bottle for each member of your unit to receive a half ration each.”

The Lieutenant was on her feet, stammering her ascent.  “My lord, of course.  I am sorry.  Would…  would you care for the first ration, my lord?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”  Mara raised the bottle to her lips and took a swig, then handed it back to Bel Iblis.  “See to your men, Lieutenant.”

Bel Iblis held the bottle as if it were a precious relic.  Mara winked at her and strode toward the back of the room, where Quinn had arranged their camp beds.  The soldiers’ eyes followed her.  Quinn had seen that look on the faces of other soldiers on other Imperial-held worlds.  They had seen her fight, had seen her put her body and blade between them and incoming fire.  Her tactics had restored their momentum.  And now they had seen her wit and mercy.  They would follow her into hell if she asked it.

Quinn stayed in the main room for a few moments to make sure the distribution of whiskey was orderly (or as orderly as possible under the circumstances).  Then he followed his wife into the relative privacy of the shadows.  

When he found her she was curled up on her camp bed looking over the intelligence reports he had curated for her, her right arm hugging herself, her hand idly rubbing at the scar on her side.  She had removed her utility belt; it was off to one side, her lightsaber just visible tucked under the pillow on her cot.  

“That was well done,” he said quietly.  “I think Lieutenant Bel Iblis is quite taken with you.”

“Hopefully not too taken; I don’t need her doing something stupid on my behalf that gets her people killed.”  

They fell back into work for a while, talking through the intelligence he had flagged for her.  She asked more questions, now, than she had a week ago, asking to see more context and corroboration for the reports he gave her.  He knew she was testing him, looking for evidence of new deception.  He patiently walked her through everything.

When they looked up some time later, the rest of the camp had tucked in, save for the first watch stationed at the access points of the room.

“You should sleep, dear,” he said softly.  He unbuttoned his jacket and went to his pack to retrieve a med scanner.  “Let me scan your wound so I can send a report to Jaesa, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“It’s fine, it just itches.”

“I promised to send regular updates, my lord.”

She grumbled but laid down on her right side, her hands resting, fingers interlocked, on her left hip.  He knelt next to the cot and scanned the scarred area, looked up to find her studying him thoughtfully.

“How does it look?” She asked.

“Ah… good, my lord.”

“Mmm.”  

She reached out and took one of his hands and laid it gently on the scar.  It was still slightly bigger than his hand, the skin raised and oddly textured, and slightly warmer than the rest of her.  He ran his hand over the scar gently, revelling in the feel of her skin.  She was healing better than should have been possible; her strength in the face of his betrayal astonished him.  

To his surprise, she made a small sound in the back of her throat and pressed herself against his palm.  She responded to his touch in this way sometimes, luxuriating under his hands like a cat.  He hadn’t expected her to react to him in that way for some time.  That she was now flooded him with relief.

  
  


Mara’s body twitched when Quinn’s hand made contact with her skin, whether to pull away or to get closer, she wasn’t quite sure.  She recoiled at the memory of the droids firing at her, at Quinn’s cold, flat gaze as he described his work to create the perfect executioner for her.  Even as he had explained it to her, she could feel his emotions at war with the forced calm on his face, his reluctance and shame and glimmer of hope that he would fail.  She arched her back, pressing her exposed side against his palm, the fear of pain and thrill of lust blending together in a way she hadn’t experienced before.

She looked up and saw his eyes shining with tears.

She put a hand on his chest, a spray of fine hairs peeking out from the top of his undershirt.  “Please, don’t.” She whispered.  “Do not tell me again how sorry you are.”

His free hand covered hers; his other hand moved down her side to cup her hip. “How can I not?”

“Sorrow doesn’t help me, Malavai,” she growled.  “Give me something I can use.”

She grabbed a fistfull of his shirt and pulled him to her.

  
  


Mara's kiss was filled with urgency and violence.  Her lips bruised Quinn's, her teeth raking his lower lip at random.  He was certain her nails had left a spiral of scratches on his chest when she’d grabbed him.  

This was new.  He’d learned early on that his wife liked to be treated roughly during their encounters, but pain had never been something he liked.  He tried to pull away, but found himself helpless against her iron grip on his shirt; it was a choice between staying where he was and losing part of his shirt and probably some chest hair as well.

He knew they could not do this here, with their unit sleeping mere meters away, but as she kissed him, her free hand roaming enticingly over his body, he felt his reservations beginning to drain away.

“Mara...,” he ground out between kisses. “Darling, please…” 

He placed both his hands on her shoulders and pressed her away as gently as he could while still creating space between their faces. “Someone will hear us,” he whispered.  “We cannot…”

His whisper turned into a low groan when her hand found his cock, which had already declared his reservations moot, and began stroking it gently through his pants.  The sound earned him a sly smile from Mara, her amber eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.  

Oh, she loved breaking his hard-won control.  She didn’t understand how exceedingly difficult it had been for him to maintain that control in her presence ever since she’d first strode into his barracks on Balmorra: an exhilarating, unsettling whirlwind of ruthless efficiency, surprising kindness, and inappropriate comments.  He had wanted her almost immediately but struggled with the bounds of propriety and the dangers inherent in becoming involved with a Sith.

“Of course they will hear us.  They know what I am,” she purred.  Dimly, part of Quinn’s brain noted the threat in that statement.  She could grind him to dust without breaking a sweat. “They know what we are together.  To a man they are surprised this hasn’t happened yet.”

In a blur she sat up from her cot, sliding off the side to her knees in front of him. She grabbed his belt in both hands and yanked his groin against her, using the leverage to grind herself against his thigh.  She gasped as she made contact, her breath hot on his neck.  He felt her lips against on his skin, moving up to his ear, and then she raked her teeth down his neck.  His groan of pleasure turned into a yelp of pain.  

He tried to twitch away but her hands had moved up his back and held him fast.  He opened his mouth to protest and gasped instead when her tongue found the bite marks she’d left, gently massaging away the pain.  

“I nearly died,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotions he could not identify.  “Show me how happy you are that I didn’t.”

All remaining protestations died on his lips.

  
  


He had been about to say no.  To speak again about propriety and duty and  _ what one does _ .  To run away from the pain she was offering him.   Mara knew, perhaps better than he did, just how happy he was that he’d failed and that she lived.  A distant, highly unwelcome part of her conscience panged her for manipulating him, for pressing pass his boundaries.  But only a small part; he owed her this, and, kriff, she needed it.  

She had spoken true about their unit; the soldiers knew they were led by the Emperor’s Wrath and her consort.  They all had the usual preconceived notions about a Sith Lord’s appetites, the same morbid curiosity and nascent voyeurism.  To delay any longer would raise suspicion.         

The words she knew he was preparing melted into a growl and he grabbed the back of her head to pull her lips to his.  The infuriating gentleness he’d treated her with over the past four days similarly evaporated, leaving raw need behind.  He pulled her entire body against him and pressed her mouth open aggressively, as if he were trying to possess every inch of her at once.

His hands began exploring her body, down her back to her ass, around to her thighs, into the waistband  at the front of her pants.  She moaned into his mouth as his fingers slid into her.  Her hands were similarly busy, pushing up under his shirt to rake her nails across the muscles of his back, up and down his chest and stomach.

When he pulled away from her, his eyes burned with lust.  His free hand came back up to her neck, gripping the back of her head, fingers twined tightly in her hair.  His gaze held hers sternly as his fingers worked, coaxing an array of moans and gasps from her, a cruel, feral smile spreading slowly over his face.

Now  _ this _ was the Quinn she wanted.  She felt her eyes roll back in her head as she arched her back, a low chuckle rolling out of her.  His hand on her head jerked her upright.  “Look at me, darling,” he growled, his fingers thrusting home hard, dragging a sharp cry from her.

She growled back at him, her hands flying to his belt and yanking off the buckle.  The closure on his pants followed.  They separated for a moment, each fumbling with their own boots and pants.  Mara won that race, shrugging out of her shirt as Quinn was still freeing his second leg from his pants.  He groaned as he looked up at her.

  
  


He finally shook off his pant leg, what little coordination he possessed draining out of him as he drank in the sight of his wife’s body.  Behind her, where the rest of the soldiers were allegedly sleeping, he felt certain he saw at least a few heads turned in their direction.  He found he no longer cared.  

Let them stare.  She was glorious, and, for reasons he still did not understand, she had chosen him.

He tried to rise, to pull her to his cot.  She pounced on him then, slamming him into the floor with a hand on his chest, her knees on either side of his stomach.  Her hands found his, pressing them into the floor so hard he began losing feeling in them.  She slowly lowered herself onto his cock, and they gasped together at the sensation of it.  She began moving against him in earnest, creating a dizzying mix of movements that tore repeated growls and groans from him, until she covered his lips with her own, hungrily exploring his mouth.

As he got closer to orgasm, he freed his hands from her grasp, moving them instead over her body, cupping her breasts roughly, dragging his fingertips over her ass.  She moaned into his mouth in response, the sound driving him crazy.  

He lifted her off of him, slamming her down on her back next to him and flipping over.  

  
  


She grunted as she hit the floor, and then he was there above her, filling her vision.  He positioned himself between her legs, and she gasped in anticipation as she felt him against her, but he did not push in.  She arched her back, trying to coax him back inside.  He avoided her.  

Her eyes met his.  That iron control was back, with a touch of cruelty.  He grinned at her sardonically.  “Was their something you wish of me, my lord?”

She growled low.  His body seemed to twitch in response.  It was a sexual sound, but also not.  

Her hand snaked up to his throat for the second time in a week.  She squeezed gently, just to remind him that she could stop his air if she wished.  His eyes widened and he tried to pull away.  She felt her mouth twist in a smile that was probably rather unfriendly.  She relaxed her grip, and instead dug her nails into his neck until he gasped in pain.

“If you don’t fucking  _ fuck me _ right now, I swear to you I will take what I want and put you down when I’ve finished.”

His sense was a riot of emotion: desire, love… and fear.  Oh, he still wanted her, but this was new.  She’d never threatened to overpower him before.  She’d never hurt him this much before.  Feeling his fear in her mind was almost enough to push her to orgasm on its own.

The moment passed, and his desire won out.  He thrust into her, his eyes closing as he held himself there for a few moments, luxuriating in the feel of her.  She moved her hands to his ass, holding him against her as she raised her hips and ground herself against him.

He began moving in her again, and she moved with him, her hips rising to meet his as his mouth explored her neck and shoulder.  She urged him on, all pretense at subtlety forgotten as they pushed one another closer to orgasm.  

The feel of his teeth raking her shoulder pushed her over the edge, and as she cried out she felt him explode inside her.

  
  


They cleaned themselves up separately and re-dressed.  When Quinn looked over at Mara’s cot, she had already drifted off to sleep, her face more relaxed than he’d seen it in days.  He felt his own brow crease as he stared at her, his hand unconsciously rubbing his neck.

She’d drawn blood.  Nothing serious, of course, but blood had never been part of their repertoire before.

Sleep remained elusive and fitful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn explains himself. Connections are missed.

Corellia had fallen to the Empire in just over a month, its government stabilized and utterly loyal to the Empire.  Baras’s assassins had met their end at her blade, his entire infrastructure on Corellia eliminated.  Darth Vowrawn, a political opponent to Baras and the target of the assassination attempts, had agreed to sponsor Mara’s claim as the Emperor’s Wrath before the full Dark Council.  By all rights, that should leave her and Vowrawn even, but she doubted the council member would see it that way.  A worry for later.  

Now, Mara stood outside the entrance of the Dark Council’s chambers intending to face Baras and have her power recognized.  Only years of discipline kept her nerves in check.

The last time she had been in this room, she’d been a sixteen-year-old Sith adept hauled out of her bunk in the middle of the night to answer for her mother’s treason.  She had succeeded in arguing for her life, but had been banished from Korriban.  It had been just over a decade before they’d allowed her back to complete her training.  Before Baras found her. 

Her memory of that night seemed simpler to Mara, now.  She’d only had to worry about herself.  Today, through her own stupidity, she also had to worry about her husband.  Bringing Quinn along had felt like the correct move at the time, allowing him to see her put down the man he’d betrayed her for.  But now, as she waited to enter, she wondered at her own foolishness.  

During their flight back from Corellia, she had finally cornered him and asked, again, why he had obeyed Baras’s orders to kill her.  They were in their quarters, sitting on their bed, when she’d asked.  

 

***

 

“Darth Baras shared with me the intelligence he had on this ship.  He had remote access to all of its systems. He ordered me to… to eliminate you myself or deliver you to him alive.  Failure to comply would result in Baras detonating the entire ship remotely, killing us all.”  Quinn hesitated.  “This was in my report; did Vette not share it with you?”

“She shared it; I just find it a poor excuse, especially since you and Vette working together were able to shut him out of the computer and eliminate the listening devices he’d installed throughout the ship.  You’re an Imperial officer, I know your training involved functioning while under enemy surveillance.  

He was silent, his face turned away from her.  His shame burned out to her through the Force.  She took his chin in her hand to turn his face toward hers, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“No, there is something else,” she said, studying the intense blue of his eyes.  “You had any number of opportunities to bring this to me and find an alternative to murdering me.  Why didn’t you?”

“Please,” he whispered.  “Do not ask me this.”

He tried to shift out of her grasp, but she held onto his face tightly, refusing to let his eyes retreat from hers.

“What could possibly be so much worse than what I already know?”  Mara regretted the words as they left her mouth; a half dozen possibilities popped into her mind.

“You do not understand,” he said miserably.

“Make me understand.” 

“It was the only course of action,” he said desperately. “I could not let the entire crew pay for my indiscretion.  And I know what Darth Baras does to his prisoners; I could not consign you to that fate.  The droids were to be faster, cleaner.”

“That is not what I asked you, Malavai.” She leaned forward, rising onto her knees a little to loom over him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  You are my husband, for kriff’s sake.”  She heard her voice rising and made no move to contain it.  “I would have done anything necessary to keep you safe from him.” 

“How could I have known that?” He shot back.

 

Mara’s hand dropped from his face, and she sat back awkwardly. She stared at him dumbly for several seconds.

“What?”  

Then realization dawned, and that look of pain he remembered - the one he had never seen before the day he betrayed her - slowly spread across her face.  “You thought I was using you.  Like Baras was.” 

He nodded, reached for her hands, but she jerked away from him so hard she nearly fell off the bed.

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“How could I not? You are-”  _ Beautiful. Powerful. Ten years younger than I, a career officer approaching middle age with little to show for it. _

“You could have any man you wanted,” he said instead, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Choosing me defies all logic, unless you had a plan for me.”  

She  _ had _ defied all logic in pursuing him; he’d tried, for months, to make her see that he wasn’t worth her time.  But she had persisted.  

Once Mara had squeezed past the defences he’d kept up for so many years, once he’d allowed himself to feel the affection he’d built up for her, falling in love with this woman had been the easiest thing in the galaxy, his connection to Baras simply one of a hundred things that could end their life together prematurely. But he’d never believed she felt anything for him beyond fondness for a favorite pet or tool, not until she stepped away from him that day, her face awash in pain, and refused to execute him.

It was the worst miscalculation of his life.

“You know  - you have always known - that I can offer you very little aside from myself, and I would never presume that would be enough to warrant your devotion.”

“But you  _ were _ enough. You made me happy,” her voice was small. 

“You are the first Sith I have ever met who cared about that,” he replied simply.

His own parents, both Sith, had certainly not considered something as trivial as happiness or love in their union; they had simply made a dynastic decision and regretted it when their son was born lacking their gifts with the Force.

Mara stood and began pacing. “So you have never trusted me.” She stopped, as if struck by a sudden thought, and fixed him with a glare. “Do you love me?  Or were you just trying to... to _participate_ in this elaborate game I’ve apparently concocted?”

“Oh, darling,” he breathed. “Yes, I love you.  More than I ever thought myself capable of loving anyone.”

 

Mara resumed her pacing.  The movement helped keep her thoughts flowing, which she needed at the moment.  If she focused too much on her hurt, Quinn would not make it out of the room alive.  If she focused too much on his words and her desperation to believe him, she would forgive him on the spot.

“I do not understand how you could be so blind,” she said finally. “You have lectured me for being too kind on more than one occasion.  You know I am not… typically Sith.  How could you not see how I have felt for you?”

“My parents…” he trailed off, looked away for a moment.  Mara felt her heart clench.  She had met Darth Eira and Darth Vail during her time on Korriban; they had been some of the crueler instructors in an already-cruel institution.  

She had only realized their connection to Quinn when she’d received a message from Darth Eira expressing her displeasure that her son had chosen to marry into the eccentric, infuriatingly moderate Thrask family. Darth Vail, by contrast, had not had any recent contact at all with his son that Mara was aware of.

“Malavai, if I were in any way like your mother, you would never have offered your service to me as freely as you did.”

“I know that. But you must understand she casts a long shadow,” he said quietly.

Mara turned that over in her mind, feeling her resolve soften.  It must be difficult, she reflected, being trapped between people who could stop your heart on a whim.  It was a helplessness she would never truly know.  

She took a few steps toward him, stopped just out of reach. “And now?”

“I know how wrong I was.  I… I understand we cannot be precisely as we were.  But I want the opportunity to prove to you that I can learn from this, if you will grant it.”

Stars, she wanted to believe him.  His words were precisely what she wanted to hear; his sense, for the first time in over a month, glowed with everything she loved about him.  She missed that warmth; she missed  _ him _ .  The worst part of his betrayal had been losing the emotional support he usually provided.  Vette had been wonderful, indispensable, through all of this, but she could not offer what Quinn had before.  Mara was tired of dealing with this alone.  She vacillated for a few more heartbeats, then threw herself into his arms.  

He grunted in surprise, but his arms went around her automatically, cradling her against him as she buried her face in his neck.

“I love you so much,” she whispered against his ear.  _ Please don’t hurt me like this again _ , she pleaded silently.  They stayed like that for a few long moments, Mara revelling in the warmth of her husband’s mind and embrace.  He pulled away from her slightly and kissed her, gently at first, but with increasing intensity.  His kiss reawakened her passion and desire, and her anger.  She pulled away from him and said the most romantic thing she could think of, under the circumstances.

“I will kill Baras for doing this to us.”

His fear spiked as she said it.  She drew back, looked at him.  “What?”

“Do you still believe this confrontation is a good idea?”

“Are you serious?  I’m more sure now than I was ten minutes ago that he needs to die.”

“Of course he needs to die.  But are you sure you can do it?”

Mara pulled away from him, sitting back on the bed, studying him.

“You’re afraid I will let him live.”

“You have such an astounding capacity for mercy, darling.  I do want to assure you it is… misplaced in this instance.  You do not know Baras as I do.  You must be ruthless, cruel even.”  

His voice and eyes were so gentle as he said it.  Like he were talking to a child.  Her fury returned in a rush.  She resisted the urge to put her fist through his skull.

“You think I don’t know that?  Malavai, you tried to kill me on his orders.”

He had the good grace to look abashed, but pushed on. “If my example has proven to you that Baras is beyond redemption, then I am glad to have been of some small service to you.”

Something in her snapped.  She had been planning all along to kill Baras if she could; he was a threat both to her personally and to the Empire generally.  Corellia had proven that.  But now when she did, she could picture Quinn internally congratulating himself on helping her see reason in this matter.

“Thank you so much for your sacrifice,” she said sarcastically.  “Do you have any other wisdom to graciously impart, Captain?”

He’d realized he had overstepped, began trying to apologize.  She just stared at him, her anger intensifying.  He truly did not understand her at all.  No, she was not a model, cruel Sith.  But she was no helpless Jedi, either.

“I just want to clarify: I am both too Sith to love you, and not Sith enough to command your respect.  Is that correct?”

“Mara, I am sorry, I-”

She rose onto her knees and leaned forward until their faces were nearly touching. 

“Make no mistake, Malavai: I will have your respect and obedience.  Your love I can take whenever I wish.”  She smiled, and the color drained from his face.  “Let us see if you can learn to enjoy being loved by a Sith.”  

She kissed his lips gently; he was rigid, perfectly still, like a frightened animal.  “Sleep well, darling.”

She strode out of their quarters without another word; the door slid shut on him stammering out a response.

Pierce had been assigned to night duty for their trip back to Korriban; she’d sent him to bed on the understanding he’d take her morning shifts for the duration.  After her shift ended, she spent several hours with a training droid in the cargo hold, running a hand-to-hand combat program.  She returned to their quarters, sweaty and exhausted, hours after Malavai had already begun his day.  

They kept that schedule for the rest of the trip.  Despite her threats, she kept her distance.  She could feel Quinn marinating in the fear she’d inspired, and for now that was enough.  

 

***

  
Now they were here.  She was preparing to walking into a room of Sith Lords who, at best, would regard her with hostile indifference, backed up by a man who thought her weak and would probably take credit for any strength she did show today.  No, bringing Quinn with her to witness his master’s death was not the most inspired decision she had made recently.  It was too late to send him back, though; Darth Vowrawn appeared and motioned them forward.  Raising her chin, she swept forward, ensuring she would be the first of their party to enter the room.  It was time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara faces her destiny, and is kind of a dick to Quinn. Trigger warning for some abusive behavior toward the end.

Baras was strong.  Terrifyingly strong.  Only stubbornness and the Force kept Mara on her feet; she had burns all over her body from Baras’s Force lightning, and she could feel blood trickling down her scalp from where he’d nearly put her head through one of the chamber’s walls.  There were probably other wounds, but she’d been using the Force to deaden her pain for some time now and wasn’t fully aware of them.  

Despite it all she stood, defiant, deadly calm, every inch the Emperor’s Wrath fully in control of the situation.  

At least, she hoped that was what the Dark Council saw.

Baras was also still on his feet, somehow, his mask gone.  He was bleeding from at least a dozen cuts inflicted by her lightsaber, but the injuries seemed to simply fuel his anger.  

Still, as they had battled, despite her injuries, she’d felt herself grow stronger, the Force infusing her in a way she’d never experienced.  By contrast, Baras, a maelstrom of Force rage at first, had begun to flag.  His last attempt at an attack might have finished her, but it had fizzled spectacularly.  

It was a far cry from her last battle in this chamber; then she had been entirely at the mercy of the council members and Darth Malgus, and had only emerged alive only by sweet talking the Dark Council into overriding Malgus’s desire to execute her entire family for her mother’s treason.  The memory put today into a certain amount of perspective; Malgus himself had tried to dismantle her family and failed.  The Dark Council had tried to deny her the title of Sith Lord, only to invite her back to Korriban after a decade had gone by and they’d realized she had strengthened her house and consolidated considerable political power outside of the council’s watchful eye.  Baras was nothing to her.

“You seem depleted, Baras,” she said, feeling her lip twist in a smirk.  “Surely the Emperor would not abandon his Voice.”

Baras paced the room, turning from one council member to the next, imploring them to cut her down in his stead.  As he raged, she let her attention drift, studying each of the council members in turn.  Baras had already lost them; it was clear, from his last failed attempt to summon Force lighting, that whatever favor he may have had with the Emperor once, it had been transferred to her.  Mara personally disliked that interpretation - her power was her own - but she would accept their belief if it strengthened her hand.  One by one, the Dark Council members sat back and turned their attention to her.  Even Darth Ravage, who had been Baras’s closest supporter when the duel had begun, deferred to her.

Her gaze travelled to the door of the chamber.  Quinn stood at attention just next to it.  He had been forbidden from helping her, forced instead to stand silently when she’d slammed head first into the wall next to him and crumpled to the floor.  She suspected Baras had chucked her in that direction on purpose.  On the surface, Quinn appeared calm as ever, but his arms were tight, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes periodically twitching toward the dented, bloodied wall next to him.

Baras, at long last, turned back to her.  She looked her former master in the eye.

“You seek to take my place, you foolish girl.”  He was not done grandstanding.  “You have no idea the depth of the waters you’re swimming in.  The Emperor’s power is not to be toyed with.”  There was an edge of desperation in his voice.  

She laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“Oh, Baras, you overestimate your importance.”  With every word, she Force seemed to come more and more alive in her, shunting aside her physical pain and filling her with so much power she felt certain she was glowing with it.  Her voice deepened. “I have no need of your power.  In eradicating you, I am merely performing a service on behalf of the Empire.”

_And as for the Emperor… if he is indeed granting me power to forge my own way, so much the better._

“You think you can defeat me? Deal the death blow, then, and see how I strike at you from the darkness beyond!”

“Alive, your reach was too short, your tools of destruction impotent against me,” she replied, aware of the eyes on her.  “In death, you will find yourself lacking even the power to keep the worms from devouring your corpse.”

She raised her lightsaber.  

“I cleanse the galaxy of you, Baras.”

She brought her blade down diagonally through Baras’s torso, and on a backhand swing severed his head from the uppermost of the two pieces.  It rolled some distance away; she paid it no additional mind.  She stepped over the corpse, coming to stand directly in front of Darth Marr.  

Marr had argued eloquently for her expulsion sixteen years ago.  She suspected he believed he had been helping her - letting her live only held attraction if they could punish her otherwise, and there were rumors later on that Malgus had intended to take her an apprentice if the Dark Council forced his hand - but the memory still stung.  Mara raised her chin, meeting his gaze (estimating where it was behind his mask) defiantly.

“You are acknowledged as the Emperor’s Wrath,” Marr said.  “Your activities will not be challenged as long as they do not contradict our own.”  

Mara nodded.  “I look forward to working with this body to restore order to the galaxy, and to the Empire.  Do not get too comfortable, my lords; change will be necessary.”

Darth Vowrawn stood.  “Let the enemies of the Empire tremble,” he announced formally.  “The Emperor’s Wrath shall consume them all!”

The full council stood.  To a man, they bowed to her, Darth Ravage meeting her gaze with a slight nod of respect as he did so.  She knew she was supposed to feel something in response - eagerness for the power they were granting her, perhaps, but she found the gesture superfluous, given what she’d felt during the duel.  The Council’s respect and trust would smooth her way, but otherwise she already had what she came here for.  

Marr inclined his head.  “Good hunting, Darth Mara.”

She inclined her head in return, turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving them to deal with Baras’s body.  The Force kept her back straight and her gait normal.  Quinn fell in behind her as she exited the room.

He walked a respectful step behind her as they made their way through the academy and back out to where their shuttle waited.  His sense burned with pride; the feeling both warmed an annoyed her.  Initiates and masters alike stared as she moved past.  She must have looked terrifying; clothes singed, hair mussed, eyes alive with power.  She wondered idly if Quinn’s parents were nearby, and wondered what Darth Eira’s reaction would be to hearing that her hated daughter-in-law had slain a Dark Council member on the floor of the council chambers and walked out with nearly unchecked personal power.  The thought made her grin.  An initiate who had been in her line of sight cringed and backed up several paces.

At length, Quinn keyed the door to their shuttle closed.  He reached out to her, as if to steady her and lead her into the cockpit.  She jerked away from him, drawing heavily on the Force to keep herself upright.

“I do not recall giving you leave to touch me, Malavai.”

“Darling, you can barely stand, let me help you.”

“I’m fine,” she ground out.  

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she cursed internally.  He had clearly re-lived their conversation just after his betrayal, when she’d been grievously injured but able to stand and function by virtue of the Force alone, enough to pick out the signs of when she was doing so.  It was a sweet gesture, indicative of his constant desire to improve his usefulness to her, and it was completely tainted by the circumstances in which he’d learned the lesson.  How did he not understand that?

“Just take us home,” she said firmly.

He rolled his eyes and reached for his medscanner. “This will only take a moment.  Let me at least make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

She grabbed his wrist, holding the scanner away from her.

“That was an order, Captain.”

“So you will go sit in a corner and wait to drop unconscious,” he said sarcastically.

Mara’s eyebrows shot up.  Clearly she’d let his fear sit too long without tending it properly, or perhaps he thought Baras’s death had changed things.

“That is my prerogative, yes, Captain,” she said softly, dropping his wrist.  “You are perilously close to the line.”  

She turned and walked toward the cargo hold at the back of the shuttle.

He followed her, the idiot.

“You are behaving like a child,” he bit out.

She whirled and backhanded him, sending him staggering backward into the bulkhead, then took several long strides toward him before he could straighten and leaned in until their faces were only millimeters apart.

“Do you want me to trust you again, Malavai?”

“Yes,” his voice was barely a whisper. His fear sang in her mind.

“Then do as you’re told. And do not ever speak to me in that manner again.”

She walked into the cargo area and shut the door, not bothering to look back at him.  She was already deep into a healing trance before Quinn pulled himself together enough to run through the pre-flight check and take off.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Mara play a game.  
> Smut incoming, trigger warning for non-con elements.

Later that evening, Quinn looked up from his work on the bridge of the Fury and realized it was approaching the middle of the ship’s night.  He’d been working on fine tuning the turbolasers and lost track of time.  Or he was avoiding the quarters he shared with his wife.  Perhaps both.  He rubbed the fist-sized bruise on his face absently as he completed the last calculation.

With a sigh, he stood, stretching his lower back and stifling a yawn.  For a few heartbeats he considered sleeping in the crew quarters, before discarding the idea.  With any luck, Mara would be asleep already and he could slip into bed without incident.

Luck, it turned out, was not with him.

She was awake, lying on her side on the bed reading a datapad, her back to the door.  And she was wearing a short, ink-blue sleeping gown he had bought for her early in their relationship.  The garment was not up to the task of containing her curves; it hitched up over her hip, exposing the tattoo on her red thigh in its entirety, and between that and the gown’s low back she was quite indecent.

That had been, of course, why he bought it.  And it was no doubt why she had chosen to wear it now.  Mara turned and looked over her shoulder at him, a mischievous smile on her face.  The movement hitched the hemline of the gown up even more.  Alarm bells went off in his head even as his pulse quickened.  

He didn’t realize he had stopped short in the doorway until he heard Pierce whistle appreciatively from behind him.

“Getting some night physic, I see, m’lord!”

Mara laughed as Quinn cursed and stepped into the room, the door sliding shut.  He leaned against it, eyeing his wife warily.

“You have nothing to fear from Pierce, my love.  He can look all he wants; you are the one in my bed.”

“You were waiting to speak to me, my lord?” He said stiffly.

Her smile faltered a little at his formal tone.  She sat up and turned toward him, her bare, red legs tucked under her, the bottom of her too-short gown shifting in tantalizing directions.

“I owe you an apology, Malavai.  I had hoped to… atone” her voice dropped seductively “for my actions on the shuttle.”

“I was trying to help you,” he said softly.

“I know. I just…”  She pursed her lips, looking for words.  “I am furious with you, dear.  I am trying not to be, but I need to know you respect me.”

“Of course I do.”

“Your actions of late have not been reassuring in this matter, Malavai.  You question my judgment.  You defy my orders when you do not like them.”

“My lord, I have never blindly followed orders; you know that.  It is my job as your executive officer to question you where it is appropriate.”

“And I value your perspective; but you must then obey me when I make a decision.  You blatantly disregarded my orders today, over something utterly trivial.”

He scowled despite himself; only a bloody Sith Lord would consider the injuries she sustained today trivial.

“In any case,” she said, standing, “I should not have struck you.  That was wrong of me and I am sorry.”

He blinked.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her apologize to anyone like this.  “I… thank you, my lord.”

She chuckled at his continued formality, the movement drawing his attention to her chest and her nipples poking through the scant, thin fabric.  She took a few steps toward him.  “I would like to heal you, if you’ll allow it.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice.  She was in front of him now, her hands coming up to his head, one tangling itself in his hair and the other turning his chin gently so she could see the bruise.  She pressed her lips to it, and he felt the liquid fire of her healing power slice through him.

He moaned, reaching down to fondle her backside.

She pulled away as the bruise receded, her yellow-orange eyes searching his.

“Prove to me you can obey.”

 

Mara leaned in and kissed him gently.  Quinn grabbed her ass and tried to pull her against him, to force her mouth open, to settle back into their familiar sexual dynamic.  She caught his wrists in her hands and pulled back, making a tsking sound.

“Not just yet, darling.  I am not ready, and neither are you.”

She moved further into the room, turned to find him rooted in place and radiating confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you want me? If not, I am perfectly content going to bed.”

She ostentatiously feigned a yawn and stretched her arms over her head, knowing exactly how far up the motion pulled her gown. He groaned in reply and crossed to her in two large strides. She laughed.

“I thought so.  Do exactly as I say, love, and you shall have me. But,” she gripped his chin sternly, “if you disobey, you will sleep in the crew quarters. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, his sense still uncertain but beginning to settle into obliging curiosity.

“Good.” She stroked his cheek affectionately, then stepped away from him, feeling a little uncertain. This particular game had never really appealed to her; a powerful Sith Lord from a highly-placed family, she had never lacked for people to follow her orders.  Until now.

She circled him in silence, running her hands over his body as she did so, lingering over the bulge in his pants as she came back to face him.  He stood nearly at attention, waiting, and gasped slightly as she teased his cock.

“You will do nothing unless I order it.  You may ask,” she grinned, “or beg, for permission. In fact, you should do so vigorously.  But you will obey me. And darling?” She squeezed his cock gently, “if your cock is not ready when I want it, there will be… consequences.”

“Ye… Yes, my lord,” he gasped. “May I kiss you?”

“You may not.  Kneel.”

He obediently dropped to one knee, looking up at her expectantly. Her breath caught.  She reached down and stroked his hair, holding his chin in one hand. Stars, but he was beautiful, especially from his angle. The slightest movement on her part would result in his face connecting with her mons, and it took every ounce of control not to pull him to her.

“This reminds me of Balmorra, before-” her voice cracked, and he flinched.  She steadied herself. “I should have listened to you when you said you were unworthy of me, Malavai.”  She shoved his face away from her so hard he fell backward.

“I am utterly unworthy, my lord,” he said, straightening.  Playing the part, but she the flash of pain she felt from him was real. “I can only hope my skills remain… useful to you.” The tone of his voice changed, made her insides twitch needily, “I beg you to command me, lord.”

She smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted a foot toward him.  “Kiss your lord’s feet, Malavai.”

He moved forward and did as she asked, gently taking her foot in his hands and kissing with each toe.  She was unsure if she’d enjoy it beyond the simple visual of him, in full uniform, kissing her bare feet, but at length he found a spot in the arch of her foot, slightly ticklish, that sent shockwaves up her thighs. She gasped, and he grinned slightly before tending that spot more heavily.

“May I touch your legs?”

She nodded, and as he continued tending her feet, his fingertips began massaging her calf.  Truthfully, her muscles were still sore from today’s duel, and his ministrations felt good in a way beyond pure sex.  She felt her thighs open instinctively as his hands moved further up.  She caught herself with a growl and snared his hand in hers and shot him a warning look. “Just my legs, Malavai.”

He ducked his head, but she could feel his amusement.  “Forgive me, I was anticipating your needs, my lord.”

She pushed him back with her feet. “Do not confuse your wants and my needs. I can take care of my needs whenever I wish.” She reached down and stroked her clit with two fingers, not bothering to hide how good it felt. Quinn groaned appreciatively.

“Tell me what you want, Malavai.”

“I want to lick your cunt, my lord.”

She inhaled sharply. How had she never played at this with him before?

“Do you think you deserve such a privilege?”

“No, my lord, I do not.” She opened her legs a bit more, pressed her fingers inside herself. He gasped. “I want to please you, my lord.  I beg you.”

She pulled her fingers out, leaned forward, and touched his lips gingerly. “Clean them,” she ordered.

He obeyed, licking her fingers clean and kissing her palm, his eyes never leaving her face.  She patted his cheek and pulled him toward her.

“Make me come, Malavai.”

“Gladly, my lord.”

Her hips bucked when his mouth connected with her clit, his tongue flat and at precisely the right angle and pressure.  Quinn had approached this activity as he did everything else: methodically, experimenting with different techniques to find those that worked best on her. Mara suspected there was a log on a datapad somewhere listing her reactions to this type of pressure or that speed, fingers or no.  As a result, he’d developed a catalog of skills guaranteed to make her squeal and moan with abandon.  

Mara found herself collapsed back on her elbows, her feet curled painfully as his tongue assaulted her clit, any pretense at control over the situation momentarily lost as she moaned gutturally with pleasure.  She reached down and grabbed fistfuls of his hair, pressing his face against her and moving against his tongue on her own.

He slid an unknown number of fingers into her and began fucking her with them, his movements matching hers, as he kept up the pressure on her clit.  In very short order she was shrieking as her entire body convulsed around his head.  She lay there for a few moments, flat on her back, her legs dangling to the floor, Quinn still crouched between her knees, obediently awaiting her next move.

She sat up slowly, regained the use of her voice.

“Thank you, Malavai, that was adequate.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched at the word, but he bowed his head. “I live to serve, my lord.”

She smiled, her foot reaching out to gently rub his cock through his pants.  It was still hard, as she’d instructed.

“Strip for me, darling.”

He stood and, with an aching slowness, removed his clothing, beginning with his boots.  She must have looked as impatient as she felt; his amusement didn’t show on his face, but she could feel it like a tangible thing in the room with them.  He removed his undershirt last, and stood, with the practiced ease of a career soldier, at attention, completely naked.

Mara had crossed her legs and leaned back to watch him work.  She found herself grinning.

“I should make you go about your duties naked, dear.  I could get used to having this sight on the bridge regularly.”

His calm faltered, he sputtered in a way that reminded her of their early relationship. “My lord, I do not-” He stopped, met her eyes, and smiled. “If you wish, my lord.”

“Good man.”  She slipped to her knees before him, reaching out and gently teasing the underside of his cock with her fingertips.  His eyes closed and he made a low growling sound.

“One last rule, Malavai.” He looked down at her. “You will not come until I order it.”  His sense betrayed a sliver of nervousness, but he nodded.

“Of course, my lord.”

She ran her tongue over the head of his cock, smiled at his groan, and then pushed him fully into her mouth. His hips thrust against her involuntarily, and she pulled away and looked up at him reproachfully.

“Hold still, dear.”

“I… I will try, my lord.”

She laughed, and took his cock in her mouth again, exhaling slowly through her nose as she pressed further and further down, willing her throat to open so she could take his full length.  He groaned again, but remained perfectly still as she ordered.  She closed her throat around the head, and then opened back up and began moving up and down on his cock in quick movements, before slowing to pull him in deep again.

After a few moments he made a desperate sound, his hands coming down to her head as he tried to pull away.  “I will not… last… if you persist,” he gritted.

She pulled away and looked up at him.  “Oh Malavai, we both know your control is better than that.”

His hands tightened in her hair as he fought for control. “You flatter me, my lord.”

She stared at him flatly.  “I really don’t,” she muttered back.  He glanced at her in confusion, but was working to reestablish control over himself.

She stood, and pushed him down into the chair behind him and lowered herself onto his cock.  She moaned happily, resting in his lap for a moment, her forehead pressed against his.

Then she began to ride him, and he was almost immediately brought back to the edge.

“Please let me come, my lord.”

“Not yet, dear.”

His shock hit her through the Force. She grinned and bore down on him mercilessly, not slowing her pace in the least.  He growled.

“Please, I will not last!”

Her only reply was to move faster. He began to beg.

“My lord, I cannot- Please-”

She  grinned sardonically, pausing. “Really, Captain, where is that iron control?”  She slammed her hips down on him. “That willpower that frustrated me for months.” And again.  Her teeth raked his ear. “That devotion to duty that kept your spine straight when you tried to murder me.”  She began moving again, slower this time, but with no intention of stopping.

His eyes were wide now. “Please stop,” he begged. “I want to obey you.”

“Your weakness is not my problem, Malavai,” she gritted back.  His sense had exploded in fear and panic, and a touch of anger.  She was not going to orgasm from this, but his discomfort made her laugh bitterly.

He growled in frustration, tried to push her away from him, desperate to obey but unable to fight the natural urges of his body.

“Mara please, stop this, I’m going to- Please, I can’t-” he half groaned, half sobbed as he came inside her.

She waited a few moments, and then got up off of him, feeling waves of disgust, whether at him or herself, she was not sure.

“I asked you for one thing.”

His head jerked upward and he glared at her, eyes burning.  “You knew precisely what you were doing. This is not my fault.”

She pressed her lips together, turned and gathered up the pile of clothes he’d left next to the chair, then grabbed his arm and yanked him upright.  She dragged him, stammering, to the door, keyed it open, and pushed him through.

“Mara!”

“Good night, Malavai.”

She dropped his clothes next to him and keyed the door shut.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward to Forged Alliances. See some notes at the end re: time lines.
> 
> Quinn and Mara are very much not okay. Mara is belatedly trying to work things out, but a certain SIS agent with the ridiculous red leather jacket is about to complicate the hell out of everything.

Mara thrust her blade through the cyborg’s middle, dragged it up through his torso.  He blossomed like an orchid and died.  As the body hit the ground, three more appeared from an adjacent hallway and charged her.  Mara grinned and leapt toward them, bringing her lightsaber in an arc around her as she landed just behind them, using it as a focus for the Force lightning she generated.  All three faltered and turned to face her, presenting themselves as helpless targets for Quinn, who crouched behind two storage crates a few paces away, his blaster drawn.

Had she not been able to see him, she may not have realized he was there.  Oh, she could still feel his presence through the Force, but his sense was as serene as any Jedi she’d ever encountered, devoid of the passion he’d once felt toward her, and most other feelings, for that matter.  He’d been like this for months.

 

***

 

A year had passed since Mara killed Baras.  A year since her anger at her husband’s betrayal had begun flashing out of her at random, dormant one second and then scalding the next, utterly beyond her control.  After she had struck him, and turned him out of their quarters completely naked, she had tried on several occasions to apologize, or at least explain herself.  But every attempt had ended with her rage erupting despite her best efforts.  Rage that she was the one apologizing given the circumstances, then eventually rage at herself that she could not seem to cease hurting him.

Her last attempt had been the worst.  They were on the bridge; she had hoped a more public location would keep her on better behavior.  She was wrong.

 

“I love you, Malavai, but I need you to stop provoking me.  I don’t like hurting you.”

He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, for several seconds.

“I have obeyed your every whim as best I can,” he replied heatedly.  “And I will continue to do so.  But I don’t know what else I can do to prove myself to you.  If you just tell me what you want, I will do it.”  

There was a tinge of desperation in his voice that set her on edge.

“Really, darling, there’s no need to grovel like that,” she said.  “I am not Baras.”

He pressed his hands to his eyes. “At least I knew what Baras wanted from me,” he muttered.

Mara’s hand tightened on the back of the co-pilot’s chair until the metal frame groaned and crumpled under her fingers.

“What did you just say to me?”

He clenched his jaw, his frustration palpable.

“Baras was always clear in his expectations.  I love you and I am much happier here, but you… I don’t know what you want from me.  You are behaving irrationally.”

“I’m behaving irrationally?  This from the man who has to file six different reports just so Pierce can holster his blaster differently?”

He recoiled from her, his face and sense radiating shock and hurt.  A normal person would take that back. Instead she zeroed in on his weakness. 

“Yes, Captain, do not think your ridiculous adherence to the letter of every bloody regulation, and the bottleneck it causes, has escaped me.  Given how often your shipmates bring it to my attention, I could hardly ignore it if I wished to.  I expect this ship to run efficiently; pull yourself together and do your job.  And do not bother returning to our quarters until you have removed the stick from your ass.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the bridge, and ran smack into the entire rest of the crew crowded into the common area, staring at her.  She belatedly realized she had been shouting. 

Vette and Jaesa were one joint disapproving frown.  Even Pierce looked taken aback.

Only Broonmark looked at her approvingly.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” Mara growled.

They disbursed, and Mara stalked into her quarters, shame enveloping her as her rage faded. 

Quinn slept in the crew quarters for a week after that.  He might have done so for longer, but after a week of miserable sleep Mara crept into the crew quarters in the wee hours of the morning, shook him awake and nearly begged him to return to their bed.  It wasn’t that she couldn’t sleep without him; it was that she couldn’t stand sleeping alone in their bed knowing he was down the hall in a crew bunk.

 

After that, Mara resolved not to speak of her actions in the wake of Baras’s death, opting for silence and positive action over attempts at words that would only make matters worse.  Quinn, for his part, settled back into the emotional detachment he’d exhibited when he first joined her ship, both in his professional and spousal capacities.  That he could somehow go through the motions of being her husband while making every endearment sound like “my lord” simply infuriated her all the more, which in turn made him pull away further.

It took her a few months to realize how numb he had become.  A more attentive spouse would have noticed it sooner, or at least noticed it during a less delicate moment than during foreplay.  She had pushed him down onto their bed and crawled on top of him, straddling him and kissing him deeply, when she realized his body was responding, but she felt nothing from him emotionally.

She pulled away and tried to find words to form the question.  He sat up and saved her the trouble.

“Will you not be requiring me tonight, my lord?”

She shook her head, too stunned - and, truth be told, too worried - to speak.

“I have duties to attend to on the bridge.”  He bowed and moved toward the door.

_ Kriff, I pushed him too hard. _

“Malavai, wait-” the door slid shut behind him.

 

The months that followed were terrible.  Mara kept her distance, reasoning that absence from her would help him equilibrate.  She fretted about how long it had taken her to realize the state he was in.  She took care of her sexual needs as best she could alone when he was not in their quarters, refusing to coerce him into encounters he clearly did not want.

When Darth Malgus betrayed the Empire and attacked Illum, it seemed a prime opportunity to give Quinn a chance to be away from her and serve with his fellow officers.  Mara offered his expertise, along with Pierce’s, to Grand Moff Regus for the ground battle while she and Jaesa dealt with Malgus and his lieutenants.  When she returned, he did seem in better spirits - even on slightly better terms with Pierce - but still completely disconnected from her aside from a brief flash of relief when she returned safely.

That was better than nothing, though.

Mara followed the same strategy when Lana Beniko and Darth Arkous recruited her to lead the Tython incursion, and the subsequent effort to retake Korriban when they realized the Republic had somehow managed to stage a strike on the Sith homeworld at the precise moment the Empire was raiding Tython.  Quinn and Pierce embedded with the regular forces, and Mara and Jaesa cut a path to the Imperial military’s objectives.  There was no change.

When it became clear that Arkous was a likely traitor - coordinating strikes on both Korriban and Tython with an unknown contact in the Republic - Lana quietly dispatched Mara to Manaan to track down Arkous and find evidence of his treason.  Secrecy was highly important, and the evidence necessary; they could not simply accuse a Dark Council member like Arkous of treason without proof.  

This time, Mara asked Quinn to come with her, hoping that fighting together might reawaken some of their connection.  After all, of her crew, he was the most attuned to her fighting style, and facing danger together had, in part at least, built their connection in the first place.

Lana had trailed Arkous to a suboceanic lab on Manaan, responsible for running experiments using Rakatan technology.  Mara and Quinn had invaded the lab and found the early fruits of those experiments - the cyborgs, part flesh, part Rakatan tech - and were hunting for Arkous as well.

***

 

Mara slammed her boot into the middle cyborg’s gut.  He staggered back, and she used the opportunity to behead the left-most cyborg, using her momentum to spin toward the cyborg on the right, bringing her blade through its body at both shoulder and hip level before it could raise its weapon.  Three pieces of cyborg hit the ground. 

She reached out her free hand, and the cyborg she’d kicked froze and then died as three blaster bolts hit him cleanly in the back of the head.  She let the corpse drop.

Mara grinned at Quinn - she had forgotten how good a shot he was, and remembering left her breathless - but received only a half smile in return, and still nothing else.  She suppressed a sigh.  They were still in sync with each other - he seemed to know instinctively where she needed him to be at any given time, and was ready with kolto and adrenals before she knew she needed them - but he was still completely blank to her.

A new voice came across their comms.  

“Hi.  It’s Darth Mara, right?”

Mara paused, exchanged a glance with Quinn.  “Either Lana is going deep undercover on Coruscant, or you are the ally she mentioned to me earlier.”

He laughed.  “The latter.  Name’s Theron.  Lana’s meditating, trying to use her connection to Darth Arkous to locate him.  She wanted me to let you know if I found anything that would be useful to you.”  His voice turned playful.  “Let’s put a pin in that Coruscant operation, though; I’d like to discuss that later.”

She found herself smiling, had the ridiculous urge to say something else amusing so she could hear his laugh again.  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Quinn staring at her intently and put the thought out of her head.  Antagonizing her husband was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

“And that useful information is?” She prompted.

“Right, energy surges in the lab ahead of you.  Definitely Rakatan tech.  I can’t get enough information to tell you what’s going on, but I can pretty much guarantee it needs to be stopped.”

“Consider it done.”

Theron was right; they found Arkous’s lead scientist in the lab, and after they dismantled him and his work, Arkous himself appeared, with a Republic colonel, via holo from somewhere else in the station.  Mara tried to keep them talking long enough for Theron or Lana to trace them, but Arkous smugly grinned, insulted her, and casually let drop he and Colonel Darok (his Republic counterpart) were working for Revan -  _ Revan? Seriously? -  _ before hopping into an escape pod. 

“We really must be going,” Darth Arkous’s voice said over the lab’s speakers. An explosion rocked the room, throwing Quinn and Mara both to the floor.  Walls buckled, and water began pouring in from the ocean outside. “Enjoy the crushing depths of Manaan’s oceans, Darth Mara!”

She pushed herself up off the floor, surveying the damage.  Water was everywhere, the power flickering.  A quick glance out the windows showed the lab had been torn from its moorings by the explosion and was sinking fast.   _ Bloody hell _ .

“We need an exit,” she announced to anyone listening.

“Working on it,” Theron replied. “Darok and Arkous jettisoned all the escape pods, but I managed to slave one of them.  I’ll have it dock as close as I can to your location - coordinates coming through now.  Get moving!”

She looked at Quinn, who was holding a datapad, questioning.  “Coordinates received, my lord.”

“I guess we should do as our tame Republic agent suggests.”

Quinn’s face twisted with distaste.  Mara laughed.

Their progress was hampered by knee deep water and darkness.  She kept her lightsaber ignited largely to light their path.  They made it to the room connecting to the captured pod; she could see it.  They were laboring toward it when one of the other doors into the chamber blew in.  A giant cyborg lumbered through it, blocking their escape route.

“My lord!”  Quinn shouted at her.

“I see it.”  She set her feet and leapt toward it.

“You’ll need to take this thing out fast; the facility will reach crushing depth in five minutes, “ Theron said in her ear.

“Noted,” she gritted back. She tried the move she’d used on the cyborg’s smaller kin; lightsaber through the guts, up the torso.  She met resistance just below its neck, had to pull her blade out of its body.  As she did so its flesh knit back together.   _ Kriff _ .  It backhanded her casually, sending her flying into Quinn.  They collapsed in a heap.

“Come on, Lana said you were tough! Let’s see it!” Theron shouted.

“Permission to shoot this man when we finish up here,” Quinn growled as they scrambled to their feet.

“Denied,” she replied. “I rather like having a cheering section.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

“I’d quite forgotten,” she replied, putting as much feigned innocence into her voice as possible.

Theron laughed again.  She grinned.

 

Four minutes later, she and Quinn had created a rather impressive cascade of fire from the ceiling, Mara using every trick she knew to keep the cyborg under it.  The flames occupied the cyborg’s regenerative capabilities, leaving it vulnerable to her blade. At length, she separated it into pieces, the flames leaving the corpse smelling like the fish she and her parents used to catch and cook from the river on their property on Dromund Kaas.

She staggered back, her forearms singed and smoking slightly from sticking them into the flames.

“Mara, we have to go!” Quinn shouted.  His arm hooked around her waist and he yanked her toward the pod bay.

They dove into the pod with seconds to spare.  The door slammed shut, and the pod launched itself from the lab. 

Quinn’s arm was still around her waist. They were sprawled, she nearly on her stomach, he pressed on top of her, in the limited free space in the center of the pod, water lapping at them. She was cold, her arms burned where they met the salt water, and she had narrowly avoided cracking her forehead on the edge of a seat. Even so, she moaned (a pitiful sound, even to her own ears), and pressed her ass into him. He felt so good against her, and it had been months.

He went perfectly still. She felt… the tiniest flash of need from him. Then it was gone. He stood, offered her a hand.

“Forgive me, my lord.”

She twitched, nearly sobbed, when he pulled away from her, her back suddenly cold, and her frustration a physical thing between her thighs.  She stared past his outstretched hand into his eyes for several moments, humiliation building, before scrambling to her feet unassisted. 

“Thank you, Theron.” She put as much flirtation into her voice as she could. “Maybe next time you could find us something seaworthy.”

“Hey, I do what I can,” Theron replied, the playfulness back in his voice. “Enjoy the ride.”

“I fully intend to.”

She sat back in one of the pod’s seats and let her eyes drift closed.  She was fairly sure the pod would hold long enough to get them to the surface.

She could feel Quinn’s eyes on her during the entire trip back to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my SW, I have compressed the time line a bit, so there is only a year between Corellia and Manaan (which is basically how I experienced it; I took awhile to go through the regular content, took a few years off from playing, and when I resubbed finished up the SW storyline on Corellia, went to Illum, and then straight to Forged Alliances).
> 
> I was going to do chapters covering the events of Illum, Tython, and Korriban separately, but gave up because hurting Quinn was really starting to hurt me. I sort of waffle between "yes, Quinn angst" and feeling very protective of him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever Mara wants, Mara gets. And Theron Shan, Darth Mara wants you....

It wasn’t until they’d climbed out of the pod that Quinn realized how thoroughly sodden they both were.  It was ridiculous of him not to realize, of course - they had been practically lying in ankle-deep water at the end, to say nothing of their trek from the main laboratory to the escape pod.  His boots squished loudly as they took their first few steps on dry land, and his uniform jacket felt off, clinging tightly in odd places and feeling too big in others.  

Mara looked… well, as she always looked: beautiful and deadly, even soaking wet, her dark hair disheveled, her face disgruntled.  She set off toward the office space Lord Beniko had been using as a safehouse, her stride purposeful and marked by the squeak of wet leather.  Quinn followed uneasily.  She had clearly made a decision after he rebuffed her in the pod, and he was fairly certain he would hate it.  That look on her face, when she’d keyed off her comm and settled back in a chair… he’d seen it before, early in their relationship when she’d pursued him.  To see it again in response to half a conversation with a disembodied man’s voice - a _Republic_ _agent’s_ voice, no less - was not something he knew how to deal with.

Once inside the safehouse, Quinn cursed and yanked his jacket off, dropping it to the floor with a wet thud.  He looked up to find Mara studying him, paused halfway through removing her own armored jacket.  She licked her lips hungrily, but her posture was also… withdrawn, distrusting.  

If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he enjoyed inspiring that hunger in her; it was one of the few powers he truly had over her.  But he hadn’t intended to let it fester quite so long.  Had he?  Truthfully, his own desire was beginning to fester as well.  Seeing her bare midriff on the half of her body that had been freed from her sodden armor made his pulse quicken in a way he hadn’t experienced since early in their relationship, when he’d spent more nights than he could count lying awake in the crew quarters pining for her but refusing to act.  Unlike then, he felt absolutely lost about how to act on it now.  She had been conscientious in giving him space and respect these past few months, but he couldn’t quite get past the memory of how cruel she had been for a time.

Her amber eyes were studying his in that keen, Force-sensitive way she had when she was trying to read him.  Quinn knew she could feel his uncertainty, but he found himself hoping she could feel his desire, too.  He didn’t know how to act on it yet, but he wanted her to know.

He removed his medscanner from his belt and moved toward her.  She shrugged out of her armor and sat on the bench behind her.  He knelt in front of her and ran the scanner over her arms.

“You’re lucky; the burns are relatively minor.” He pulled a tube of kolto out of his pack and moved to touch her arms, but she pulled away hurriedly.

“I… I need to do it.”

“Darling, I can-” he began, his voice low - he knew there were surveillance cameras in the front of the safehouse and was wary of being overheard, especially given who the likely audience was right now.

“No, please.  If you touch me again without-” Her voice cracked, but matched his in volume.

He sat back on his heels, trying to find words.  “I… I am ready to talk, if you are.”  He handed her the tube.

“Thank you,” she said, opening the tube and applying its contents to her arms.  Her face relaxed somewhat as the salve cooled her burns.  

“I would like you to return to the ship.  Get cleaned up.  I do not think this will take long; I will follow shortly.  We will talk then.”

He froze, incapable of hearing her request without remembering that small smile on her face in the pod.  He studied her, guilt, anger, and a tiny bit of panic rising in him.  She met his gaze evenly.

“Is this to be part of my punishment, too, my lord?” His voice was bitter.

“I prefer to think of it as a natural consequence of the last few months.  Truly, Malavai, if I return to the ship in my current state you will not like it, and I choose not to do that to you.”

He stared at her for a long moment.  She handed the kolto back to him, her fingers brushing his as she did so.

“I promise, we will talk.  Now please do as I ask.”

He snatched his jacket off the floor and stalked out of the safehouse, cursing himself as he did so.  Over the last few months, he had thought nothing could be worse than their arguments and her overt cruelty.  As the safehouse receded behind him and he was left with his own frustrated imaginings of what was likely about to happen, the realization hit him in a rush that he could lose her.  Really, truly, forever.  He thought he had made peace with that, back when he had constructed the droids and tried to end her life, but somehow it hadn’t been like this.  His stomach twisted, and he found himself leaning against the Fury’s outer hull, his breath coming in shallow bursts as his heart tried to explode out of his chest.

He groped for calm, hanging on to the last thing she said to him: “I promise, we will talk.”  He prayed it was not to say she was done with him.

 

***

 

Mara watched Quinn go, his panic following him like a wake.  She had hoped to calm him a bit by indicating her willingness to begin repairing things - after this, of course - but that clearly hadn’t worked.  She sighed and put her husband out of her mind.  She could feel another person in the back room of the safehouse, where the communication and surveillance equipment was.  They were aware of her presence, but had opted to stay quietly behind the cameras for now.

It seemed this Theron person was as curious about her as she was about him.  She picked up her armor and walked toward the back room.

 

Theron turned from the surveillance monitor.  He hadn’t been able to catch their full conversation, but he noted the Imperial officer’s reluctance to leave Darth Mara’s side, and his obvious annoyance when she’d whispered whatever command had sent him on his way.  Their body language puzzled him; the Sith lord was clearly in charge, but there was an odd tenderness there that was surprising, and none of the bootlicking fear he’d come to expect from common Imperial officers serving under Sith commanders.  He filed the information away.

He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected the Emperor’s Wrath to be like.  Larger than life, ugly with dark side rot, or hidden behind a terrifying mask.  With a raspy, awful voice that chilled souls, obviously.  Cruelty to her subordinates would be a given.  And yet.

Her voice had thrown him - low and silky, with a hint of a sarcastic smile.  He’d certainly not expected humor - at least, not humor he actually shared in.  And now, as she strode through the door, her entrance marred only slightly by the squishing of her wet boots, the masked horror he’d concocted in his mind evaporated completely.

She was a Sith pureblood, which he supposed could mean inherent evil.  But mostly… she was just a woman.  Only slightly shorter than he, with an intricate gold circlet laid into her forehead, dark black-red hair pulled back into a messy bun that had been further mussed by fighting and ocean water. Her midriff was bare, the light armor across her chest and her utility belt slung low across her hips accentuating her curves.  She carried an armored jacket in one hand, water dripping out of the fabric and leaving a trail on the floor.

Despite his best intentions, his eyes lingered a little on her chest before moving back up to her face, which was nearly glowing with amusement.  Her eyes were just on the orange side of golden, one eyebrow cocked knowingly.  He felt himself blush.

“I am not what you expected.” It was not a question.

“Um… no.”

“I think I shall take that as a compliment.”

He let his eyes roam over her again, before meeting her gaze. “You should.”

Her delighted laugh left his throat dry.  

 _Am I_ _really_ _flirting with one of the most notorious Sith Lords in the galaxy?_

She looked around.  “Where’s Lana?”

“She’s debriefing Jakarro and looking over his ship.  She should be back soon.” Theron hesitated. “Saving Jakarro from that detention center was a good call.  I’ve gotta say I’m surprised;  I wasn’t sure if you’d be open to working with Wookies, or any aliens, really.”

She shot him a quizzical look. “You think I’d let any sentient being rot in that lab awaiting experimentation, let alone one with a skillset that is valuable to this mission?”  

“Sorry,” he said evenly, ”I’ve got you mixed up with some other xenophobic Imperial.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Do be careful about believing your own propaganda, Theron.”

“So… you’re the nice Sith.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go _that_ far; I think you’ll find I rather enjoy being bad.”

Her eyebrows twitched upward suggestively and he lost the ability to form words to reply.

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself, and stepped forward, offering him her free hand. “Please, call me Mara.”

He took it, trying to ignore the thrill that ran through his body when their hands touched.  

“Agent Theron Shan, with the SIS.”

“Shan,” she repeated, her hand still in his. “Interesting.”

Whether she intended it or not, he was grateful for her reaction; thinking of his mother - if she could be referred to as such, given that she’d only filled the barest minimum of the biological role before giving him up to rejoin the Jedi -  cooled his desire a bit and reactivated his caution.  He let go of Mara’s hand and walked a short distance away, hoping the distance would help his head clear.

“Yes, well we’re not close.  You won’t be able to use me to get to her.”

 

The bitterness in his voice was oddly upsetting.  Mara cocked her head, fighting the urge to reach out to him.

He was of a height with Quinn, but broader, his complexion darker.  Where Quinn reminded her of the contrasted dark and light of space, Theron brought to mind sunlight and warm soil.  His dark brown hair seemed almost professionally mussed.  His brown eyes were… not soft, certainly, but kind.  He wore a red leather jacket that should have looked ridiculous but somehow worked, and tight spacer’s pants that showed all of him to advantage.  A series of cranial implants blinked around the outside of his left eye.  She realized he was looking at her expectantly; it had been a few moments since he’d last spoken.

“I realize I represent everything you’ve been trained to hate,” she said softly, “but you should know that, whatever you’ve heard about the supreme manipulative capabilities of my people, I am… not subtle.  Should I decide to use you, you’ll know.”

 

She took a few steps toward him as she said it, her body moving with the grace of a predator.  She stopped within arm’s length of him, her gaze holding his, rooting him in place.  It occurred to Theron this was what mice felt like when staring into the face of a cat.  At least, it would be if the mouse also wanted, against all instinct, to crawl straight into the cat’s mouth.

“Wow,” he croaked.  “And to think that officer who was with you was afraid to leave you alone with me.”

Mara’s smile returned. “Captain Quinn takes my protection very seriously these days,” she replied,  “but he was not worried for my safety.  Malavai is my husband.”

“Oh…. _Oh_ .”  All the pieces clicked into place: the way her husband - _her husband_ \- had stormed off, her heavy flirting now.  “That’s usually a deal-breaker for me.”  In principle at least; Theron had never actually been in this particular situation before.

“May I ask why?  I am married, not owned, and I think you and I could have quite a lot of fun together.”

“So, what, this is a twisted Sith thing?  Because you should know I’m not really okay with Force-users treating the rest of us mere mortals like shit for fun.”

Her eyebrows shot up as the words left his mouth.  He didn’t even blink.  Her marital status was something he was more okay with than he liked to admit; but being toyed with (or contributing to someone else being toyed with, Imperial or otherwise) was something else entirely.

“It is more pedestrian than that, I’m afraid; more of a woman scorned situation.”

“Okay… did he cheat on you or something?”  He could not imagine anyone being so stupid, but it was a big galaxy.

Pain flashed across her face for a moment, quickly buried.

“Something like that,” she said.  She gestured to a scar that ran over her ribcage. “I have a souvenir from the incident.”

The scar was bigger than his hand.  A blaster burn, he guessed.  Assuming she had treated it with kolto and the Force, It must have been huge for it to have healed to the size it was now.  

He was angry now, which surprised him.  Angry and confused.

“And your husband is still breathing because…?”

She smiled a little.  “I am fond of him.”

His shock seemed to surprise her.  “I am Sith, Theron.  We’re complicated.”

Part of his brain - the part that was actually an adult - said this was stupid.  Dangerous.  Almost certainly going to get him shot by a jealous Imperial officer.

The rest of him had already begun to picture her long, red fingers wrapped around his cock.  He took a few steps toward her, stopped just shy of their bodies touching.

“And this would be…?”

“Uncomplicated fun.  Nothing more, nothing less.”

He couldn’t stop from barking a laugh.  “Your version of ‘uncomplicated’ is very different from mine.”   

Mara placed her hands on his chest and looked him in the eye.  He met her gaze, working to ignore the heat of her palms coming through his shirt.

“Complexity is relative.  You are free to refuse me, Theron; I will remain committed to this mission regardless.  I do not want your Republic secrets or your undying loyalty.  Aside from ending this threat, all I want from you is….” she trailed off as she reached down and pressed the flat of her palm against his cock.  He groaned.  

Well, when she put it like _that_ , it seemed extremely simple.  And obvious.

He reached out both hands to cradle her face, his thumbs running over her deep red skin, marveling a little at the fact that he was touching a Sith Lord in this way and going to live to tell the tale.  Probably.  

“I think, Darth Mara, that we can work something out.  And I have to agree with you on one thing.”

She raised an eyebrow, all the while continuing to tease his cock through his pants.  “Only one?”

“You are _not_ subtle at all.”

 

Mara opened her mouth to say something witty in return, but his mouth claimed hers.  She reached up and grabbed his jacket, pushing it down his arms.  His hands released her head long enough to let it drop to the floor, and then they were on her back, running over the exposed skin of her middle.  His touch sent currents of electricity through her body.  Kriff, it had been so long since anyone had touched her.  She groaned into his mouth desperately.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his entire body against hers.  She could feel his cock, hard and ready, against her.  She pulled back and surveyed the room quickly, seeing a supply closet behind Theron.  

“There,” she groaned.

He took her hand and started to lead her toward it, but she stopped him.  Bent over, and pulled off first one soaked boot, then the other, and tossed her sodden socks onto the pile. She scampered over them and pressed Theron up against the wall next to the closet, her hands sliding up under his shirt to feel the skin of his chest and back, her tongue exploring his mouth.  His hands slid down her body to her ass, squeezing and fondling for a few moments before using the leverage on her upper thighs to pick her up.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing him as hard as she dared.

 

The feel of her body wrapped around his was almost too much.  He groaned, shifted his grip on her so he could awkwardly slap at the release on the supply room door.  It slid open, and he turned and stepped through, depositing Mara onto the top of a crate with an unceremonious thump.  She reached over and keyed the door shut.  The room was small enough it wasn’t much of a reach; Theron could easily touch both the door and the opposite wall from where he was standing.  That is, he could If he had any inclination to take his hands off of the Sith Lord currently enveloping his body.

“You’re pretty coordinated for a Republic spy,” she gasped, legs still wrapped around him.

“And you’re exactly as flexible as I’d hoped a Sith Lord would be,” he growled back.  She laughed and reached down to unbuckle his belt. He pulled away from her to finish the buckle and remove his holsters.  

Both blasters hit the floor, followed by her lightsaber belt.  Time seemed to freeze for a moment and they shared a sharp intake of breath as they each realized the leap of faith he’d taken.  

Her eyes sparkled.  With another growl he hooked an arm around her waist, lifting her up to help her out of her pants.  He knelt and pulled them down over her feet and looked up as she pulled her shirt over her head.  He paused, still on his knees, his eyes taking in every detail of her naked body.

She grinned and reached for him, pulling him in for a kiss just as he tried to work his own shirt over his head.  They collided, Theron giving her a few hard, short kisses before yanking his shirt off, then grabbed her head in both hands and kissed her more thoroughly.

He straightened and kicked off his boots, then worked on his pants  She watched, smiling, as he stripped for her.  As he stood back up, she hopped up from the crate and pulled him against her, both hands grabbing his ass.  She trailed kisses down his neck to his shoulder, biting it gently.

 

Theron’s hand found its way down her body.  He ran his fingers lightly over her before pressing in to find her clit.  Mara gasped, the tension of sexual frustration draining away only to be replaced by the tension of anticipation.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he groaned.

“I wanted to fuck you as soon as-” she moaned lightly as his fingers danced over her clit, “I heard your voice in my ear,” she gasped.

He laughed.   _Stars, that laugh._  The sound filled her mind and made her hips jump.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he replied.

His hands slid under her thighs to lift her up.  She wrapped her legs around him again and slowly lowered herself onto his cock, moaning into his ear.  He shifted, pressing her against the back wall of the closet, and began fucking her with an aching slowness.  Every sensation of him pressing into her, sliding in fully, then his pelvis hitting her clit, was drawn out, melding together into a three-movement symphony of feeling.  After a few drawn-out thrusts her moans had calibrated a pitch for each phase of the sensation, and his sense pulsed with lust and a tiny bit of surprise, possibly at how much he was enjoying this.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and leaned down to nip at his ear.  Just as he had finished pulling out of her, she pressed herself down onto him quickly, pulling him back inside her and slamming her pelvis down into his, gasping as her clit collided with his body.  He let out a grunt and his eyes widened.  She grinned and did it again, this time choosing her own tempo and continuing to fuck him.  He buried his face in her neck, kissing and biting her between groans as she moved.  He matched her movements after a few moments, giving as good as he got and drawing another long moan from her.

Mara reached out with the Force and pushed against the wall behind her, sending Theron stumbling backward and into the crate she’d been sitting on earlier.  He caught himself and sat down with a grunt, then leaned back against the wall and grabbed her hips to guide her movements.  She threw her head back and rode him, punctuating each thrust with sharp cries and revelling in the feel of his passion in her mind and how perfectly wild she felt.

She began relying more and more on Theron’s hands on her hips as her pleasure built and her sharp cries morphed into an incoherent series of moans.  As she approached the edge, he reached down to rub her clit.  

She let out a very un-Sith-like squeal as her orgasm rolled over her, her movements faltering briefly as her entire body shook.  Hearing Theron’s groans increase in pitch, she redoubled her efforts, fucking him as she felt him grow harder inside her.  She leaned down and kissed him hard.  He groaned into her mouth as he spilled into her.

  

She collapsed against him, their bodies moist with sweat, he with his back against the wall, she crouched in his lap, her face pressed awkwardly into his neck.  They stayed like that for a few minutes - too long, Theron thought - but he enjoyed the feel of her body on his.  He ran his hands lightly over her back as her breathing returned to normal.  She made a sound that was suspiciously like a purr.

He tried to get his thoughts in order.  He still wasn’t sure he could trust Mara _or_ Lana, but they were the only other people in the galaxy aware of the Revanite conspiracy, so he had little choice in the matter.  If one of them wanted to make him feel like this in their down time, who was he to argue?

Yes, if a married, extremely powerful Sith Lord wanted to fuck him into oblivion, what could possibly go wrong?

He gave up trying to logic this out; it was futile, especially with Mara’s body pressed against him, her hair brushing his lips when either of them shifted.

“So, you were right,” Theron ventured.

“As I am in most things,” she replied, sitting back and running her hands through his hair.  “But what are you referring to specifically?”

“Hmmm, I’m not agreeing to the first part of that statement, but I was trying to say this was fun.”

“Indeed.  I think we shall have to try again as soon as is practicable.” She smiled at him conspiratorially as her hands continued to rifle through his hair and massage his scalp.  “Who knows, perhaps the Empire and Republic can be brought together.”

He laughed, and he felt her body twitch needily against him, which did not help him listen to the part of his brain that was saying they’d lingered here too long already.  

“I think it’s a long shot,” he said, her face millimeters from his as he rubbed his nose against hers, “but this definitely requires more investigation.  For the good of the galaxy.”

She leaned down and kissed him, gently at first but with growing ferocity.  His hand tangled in her hair, tilting her head back as he kissed down her neck.  He wasn’t sure if he was really ready to go again, but he was equally unsure he would refuse her if she wanted to try.

Fortunately, she pulled back.  “We should probably get dressed before Lana-” She froze, looked at him sharply and began trying to untangle her legs from his.  “Lana’s back.”

He swore, nearly knocking her over as he pushed her off of him and began hunting for his clothes.  She did the same just as a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“When you two have quite finished in there, we need to start planning our next move.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara and Theron experience some buyer's remorse. Quinn is... kind of a stud, actually. The smutty part of this was supposed to be shorter, but Mara and Quinn demanded it be thorough. Trigger warning for some physical violence and forced oral.

“So we’re agreed, we’ll rendezvous on Rakata Prime in four hours,” Lana said.  Taller than Mara, human, with short blonde hair and slightly disconcerting golden eyes, Lana Beniko had an easy, unflappable air of command that Mara found herself envying at times.  

Rakata Prime was the base of operations for this newest iteration of the Cult of Revan.  The group had recruited high-ranking military leaders from both the Republic and Empire, including Darth Arkous and a Colonel Darok, who was Theron’s link to the situation.  The group was now preparing to raise a cyborg army against the entire galaxy.  The Revanite cult that Mara had been initiated into years ago - lifetimes ago, it seemed - which had only aimed to improve the Empire from within, was gone.

Mara nodded in agreement to Lana, feeling her face twist in a wicked smile.  “After we capture Arkous, you and I can take turns skinning him alive, Lana.”  She was fully ready to murder the man for manipulating her into attacking Tython.

Lana grinned. “I had no idea you had an interest in intelligence gathering, Lord Wrath.”

“Only when sufficiently motivated.  I do not enjoy being used.”

Theron cleared his throat uncomfortably, his sense spiking with fear.  Mara stared at him, but he refused to meet his gaze.

“Oh, don’t worry Theron, we’ll leave Darok to whatever gentle Manaanite spa day the SIS has in mind for him,” Mara said.

“That’s not-  We don’t -”  he threw up his hands and clamped his mouth shut.  

His eyes darted between her and Lana and he shifted his weight uncomfortably, as if he were just realizing what it was to be a lone SIS agent thrown by circumstance in with two Sith Lords.  Out in the open, with their clothes back on and that initial burst of mutual need sated, something had shifted between them.  Theron’s sense pulsed with guilt, which surprised her - he had to know he hadn’t divulged anything useful to the Empire during their encounter - and Mara’s own conscience prodded her uncomfortably.

Her own discomfort was also surprising.  Apparently somewhere along the way, she had decided that Quinn had suffered enough for his betrayal.  But along with the guilt she also found herself eager to return to the Fury.  To confess everything to her husband and embrace his anger in any way he saw fit.  She chafed against the reality that, even taking a convoluted route to Rakata Prime to avoid being followed, she’d only have an hour or two at most to with Quinn before she would have to prepare to infiltrate a cultist stronghold alone.

“I’ll leave straight away,” she said.

“It’s imperative you are not tracked, Lord Wrath,” Lana reminded her.

She waved a hand.  “Vette has dozens of aliases worked up for the Fury; secrecy will be preserved.”

“So that’s settled then,” Theron said.

The three of them stood for a moment, awkward.  Mara tried out a few lines in her head - apologizing to Lana for their impropriety; or reminding Theron that Sith morality wasn’t sexually transmitted.  But nothing really seemed appropriate.

Theron cleared his throat and met her eyes for the first time since they’d rejoined Lana, his face a little sheepish.  He opened his mouth, closed it again, then gave up.  “I’ll go help Jakarro get the ship prepped.”

Mara watched him go, only turning back to Lana after he was out of eyesight.  The other woman raised a blonde eyebrow knowingly.

“I take it you both dove into that supply closet without considering how you’d feel afterward?”

“Something like that,” Mara replied.

“Well, your personal life is your business, Lord Wrath, but I trust we can all complete this mission without any unnecessary drama.”

Mara laughed.  “Yes, Theron and I are both professionals, Lana.  Speaking of, you should know I was once made a Revanite.”

Lana smiled.  “I doubt they consider you a member in good standing after what happened at the lab, my lord.”  Her face turned serious.  “It is a pity, really; the pragmatism of the old Revanite philosophy had its charms.”

“Agreed.  Still, this treason cannot stand.”

“Indeed not.” Lana reached out and squeezed Mara’s arm companionably.  “You did well here, as expected.  Now I must be off to spend the next several hours with a Wookie smuggler and a Republic spy.”  She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “To say nothing of that chatterbox of a droid.”

“The Empire will long remember your sacrifice, Lana,” Mara replied with a grin.

“You joke, but you have not seen the festering hulk Jakarro calls a ship.”  With a shallow bow, she walked away.

Mara made her way back to her ship.  Her clothing had dried somewhat, but her socks and boots  were still damp and unpleasant against her skin.  She entered the bridge of the ship to find Vette on duty.

“Set a course for Rakata Prime.  I need you to be creative with the route, Vette; it should take us at least two hours to get there, preferably three.” Mara instructed. “And mask our signal so we look like something unremarkable,”

“Sure thing, boss.  What’s on Rakata Prime?”

“Trouble, from the sound of it, of the ‘need-to-know’ variety,” Mara replied.  “I assume your aliases are fairly airtight, but we should arrive in system primed for a fight just in case.” She hesitated. “Anything to report while I was out?”

Vette was keying in their course. “Nothing spectacular.  Jaesa and I sparred for a while, Pierce was gross about it, Broonmark lurked.  Same as usual.”

Mara smiled.  “That’s the third time in a week you and Jaesa have... sparred.  If you two need some privacy just tell me.”

Vette jabbed at the console.  “As soon as I figure out whether Jaesa wants that, I will.”

Mara patted Vette’s shoulder.  “Jaesa may be a Sith apprentice, but she was raised with Jedi teachings.  She likes you, Vette; she’s just not sure how to approach it.  Be honest about your feelings and be there for her, but give it time.”

“You’re unusually romantic today.”  Vette glanced at her, then paused and stared more shrewdly.  “In fact you’re happier than I’ve seen you in a while.”

“This mission has been good for me,” Mara replied carefully.  Vette raised an eyebrow and her lekku twitched in an expression Mara had learned to interpret as, “I know you’re full of shit but I’ll drop it for now”.  

“Oh, Quinn’s brooding in your quarters.”

Mara’s stomach flipped, desire and nervousness accelerating her pulse.

“Thank you, Vette.  I need to speak to him.  Comm me when we’re an hour out from Rakata Prime.”

Vette gave her a look but said nothing as Mara exited the bridge.

Quinn was sitting at the datastation in their quarters, his back to the door when she entered.  He did not look up as the door slid shut behind her, but she could feel his anger, tinged with curiosity and pent-up desire.  That was a good sign.  She paused just inside the door, biting her lower lip thoughtfully, considering her options, then bent to remove her boots.

The rest of her clothes followed, and when she sat on the desk in front of him she was completely naked, her hair falling over her breasts.  His head jerked toward her, his gaze on her naked thighs.  As his eyes travelled up her body, desire began to drown out the anger in his sense.

She could not keep the pleased smile from her face when his eyes finally met hers.  Truthfully, feeling him again in her mind, she wanted to weep with relief.  She kept that in check, though; Quinn’s sense was still brittle, as if any moment the wall he’d erected would snap back into place.  She tried not to think about the delicate line she was walking.

Instead, she slid off the desk sideways into his lap.  He grunted and caught her with both arms.  Her own arms went around his neck, her cheek pressed against his as she inhaled his scent for what felt like the first time in years.

“Gods, I missed you,” she whispered against him, her voice thick with desperation and fondness, even to her own ears.

He turned his head and their lips met, hesitantly at first, as if he needed to remember what her mouth felt like.  Memory returned swiftly, though, and he growled into her mouth as his tongue found hers.  She moaned in return.  He slid his right arm under her knees and stood, lifting her with him, and returned her to her perch on the edge of the desk, gently pulling her knees apart so he could stand between them.

His teeth raked her lower lip as he pulled away from her, his eyes darkened with lust.

“It has been too long,” he agreed, his hands cradling her head.

Mara gave him her sweetest smile, and then used both hands on his shoulders to press him toward the floor.  He grinned at her and dropped to his knees in front of the desk, grabbing her just above both knees to yank her toward him.  He nipped at the inside of one thigh, earning a sharp cry from her, before eagerly burying his face between her legs.

His reaction was everything she could have hoped for.

Before she could even respond to the feeling of his mouth on her, Quinn’s sense morphed from lust and relief to confusion, revulsion, and finally to rage.  

He pulled away from her, blue eyes burning, his face a perfect portrait of outrage. 

“You-”

He broke off, glaring, fighting to form words. She met his gaze openly, letting some of her own pent-up humiliation from the past few months show through. 

“Yes, I did.”

His sense froze a little.  She rushed on.

“I let that Republic scum have  _ everything _ .”

Quinn began pacing, his hands flexing.

She remembered what Theron had felt like, fucking her slowly, let that feeling show on her face.

“He took me standing up in a supply closet, like some dirty Nar Shadaa escort.”

“Stop, I do not want to hear this!”

“I was so wet and desperate for his cock.  He made me beg.”  

Theron hadn’t done anything of the kind, of course, but Quinn need not know that.

Mara looked her husband straight in the eye. 

“And I begged very enthusiastically for him.”

Quinn’s entire body had tensed with tightly-controlled rage.  Mara’s voice turned introspective, her gaze still holding his. 

“Theron’s never had a Sith before.  I shall have to show him my full. Range. Of talents.”

As she emphasized every word, the dam in Quinn’s mind broke.

His fury hit her through the Force only a fraction of a second before the back of his hand hit her face.  Mara jerked back in shock; she had been concentrating so hard on manipulating his emotions, she hadn’t even felt the blow coming.

Quinn was staring at her in shock, too, but his anger far outweighed it.

“Good,” she purred, her face stinging where he’d struck her.  “What else do you want to do to me, Malavai?”

He paused, his rage fading a little as his analytical brain kicked in.  “What…?”

She crossed to him in two quick strides and grabbed him by the neck, careful to hold him firmly without threatening to cut off his air.

“Without thinking.  Your wife has humiliated you, Captain.  Tell me what you are going to do about it.”

His hand flashed out and grabbed a handful of the hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her down and backward.  She let go of his neck, collapsing to her knees.  Quinn’s free hand was already unbuckling his belt.  She reached out to help him, only to have both his hands close around her neck.

“Do not put your filthy hands on me,” he snapped. 

He shoved her away from him, pushed his pants down as far as they could go over his boots, and then grabbed her head in both hands.

“If you will debase yourself so far as to let some Republic dog fuck you, then I will use you however I see fit.”

Before she could reply, he rammed his cock into her mouth.  He held her head in place, thrusting into her.  Under normal circumstances, she could take him without the aid of the Force, but with him setting the pace with no regard for her comfort she found herself scrambling to reach out, willing her throat to relax and her gag reflex to calm, as he shoved his cock into her mouth with as much abandon as he’d ever fucked her anywhere else.

It was rude and humiliating and everything she deserved at the moment.

And it turned her on like nothing she’d experienced before.

She locked eyes with her husband as best she could and moaned around his cock, trying to meet his thrusts and push him deeper into her throat, hoping he’d read the intention and need behind her actions.  After a few long moments his fury subsided a little, replaced by confusion and… hope.

He paused and pulled his cock out of her mouth, his hands still on her head, but softer.

“You want this.”

She nodded.  

“You… you want  _ me _ .”

“More than anything.”

His blue eyes narrowed.

“More than  _ him _ ?”

Mara grinned and nuzzled his cock before looking back up at him.

“Fucking him made me crave you.”

Quinn groaned at her touch, then smiled, his hands stroking her cheeks and her hair.

“Well, perhaps if you are very good, I can fuck some of that Republic stench off of you.”

His hands tightened on her head, and he shoved his cock back into her mouth, picking up where he’d left off.  She reached out and gripped his thighs, digging in with her nails as she fought to remain upright.  All too soon, he threw his head back and moaned gutturally as he came.

She swallowed every drop of him, then gently pulled away, trying to hide her disappointment.  

She must have failed, because when he looked down at her he chuckled fondly and reached down to cup her cheek.

“Don’t glare like that, my love,” he said as he used his other hand to help her to her feet. “ I have not forgotten my promise, and,” his voice dropped and the hand on her face slid deliberately down her body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake until he slid his fingers over her clit, “you have been very good indeed.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”  Her knees nearly buckled as his fingers traced slow, lazy circles over her clit, enough to promise relief from the tension built up between them, but not nearly enough to deliver it.  Quinn’s arm tightened around her waist and she gripped his shoulders to keep herself upright, and he pressed his face against her neck as her head rolled back, trailing tiny bites down her neck.  His uniform jacket chafed against her bare skin.

“Why are you still clothed?” she demanded breathlessly.

“Perhaps you should do something about that,” he whispered against her neck.

She growled and moved her hands to the buttons on his jacket, her mouth finding his as she did so.  She kissed him hungrily, her hands flying over the buttons, yanking the jacket open before all of them were undone.  His undershirt came next, torn from his body with little effort.

All the while his fingers continued their maddeningly slow dance over her swollen clit.

“Impatient, are we?”  He grinned wickedly at her.

“Six.  _ Kriffing _ . Months.”  She growled back. 

“Yes, well.”  He pulled away from her long enough to kick off his boots and fully remove his pants.  “Allow me to make up for that, darling.”

He pushed her back toward the desk and resumed his earlier post, kneeling in front of it.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Mara had just enough presence of mind to reach down and grip the top of his head.  “I… I’m-”

He took her hand in his, pulling it down to his lips, and kissed each knuckle. 

“I am quite aware,” he replied.  He let her hand go.  “This is for my part in what has happened.”

And then he pressed one thigh open, tossed her other leg over his shoulder and pressed his tongue deep into her cunt.  He tended her like he never had before.  Quinn had always had an attentive tongue, but this was… more.  Desperate and thorough, as if he were trying to erase any traces Theron had left on her.  His desire and love filled her mind, an aphrodisiac all its own.  His anger still simmered, of course, but it just… intensified the rest.  

She didn’t bother trying to quiet her reactions to him, and was fairly certain the entire ship was aware of when her orgasm exploded behind her eyes.

He stood slowly, kissing his way up her trembling body, pausing to leave gentle bite marks on each of her nipples, before his lips found their way back up to hers.  She kissed him deeply, pressing herself as tightly as she could against his naked body, her hands roaming over his back and his ass, revelling in feeling his skin against hers.  He reached down to grab her hips and yanked her toward him.  His cock pressed against her urgently.

She pulled away from him slightly and looked down in surprise, then looked back up to see him grinning at her.

“You were serious,” she said, smiling so hard her face hurt.

“Six.  _ Kriffing _ . Months,” he replied, and then thrust into her.

A whimpering groan escaped her and she clung to him, still trembling from her first orgasm and feeling like the tiniest movement on his part would trigger another.  He wasn’t much better off, his arms holding her tightly against him as he pressed his face into her neck, breathing deeply. 

“I forgot.  Stars help me, I forgot how good you feel,” he whispered against her neck.

“Fuck me, Malavai,” she whispered back.

He obeyed.  Moving slowly, deliberately, knowing how to hit every spot that made her toes curl involuntarily.  

Mara moaned long and low, her body tensing back up as she hurtled back toward the edge.  He grinned and picked up his pace and slammed into her harder.  He groaned against her in turn, his arms rigid around her and beginning to shake.

The combination of the pressure of his body hitting her clit and the feeling of how bloody hard his cock was as she squeezed him pushed her over.  She screamed, her entire body tensing around him.  He swore and thrust into her one last time as he came, his arms clamping around her so hard she nearly had trouble breathing.

She held him against her, running her fingers through his hair, for several long moments.

“We need to talk about the upcoming mission,” she said quietly, hating to break the moment but keenly aware that Vette’s one hour warning could come at any moment.

He was silent for a couple of heartbeats, then eased himself out of her.  “We need to talk about what you did.  What… what we’ve done,” he reminded her. 

“I know.  And we will.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she put a finger over his lips.

“This was more important.  Talking was never going to help until we cleared this… this wall between us.  But I don’t know how much time we have before we land and I need to gear up and brief you before I go.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded.  He leaned down to pick up his ruined uniform jacket.

“I shall be forced to cite a reason for requesting a new uniform,” he tsked.  “That could become… awkward.”

“Don’t you have at least six others here?  Besides, I think, ‘my wife is a Sith Lord’ will suffice, darling.”

She grinned and headed into the fresher for a quick shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may have gotten carried away here. If this is how they act after a six-month sex drought, how the hell are they going to react to the years-long separation of KotFE/KotET?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes prepare to assault Rakata Prime. Ahead of the impending mission, as a nebulous sense of doom pervades, Quinn, Theron, and Mara ruminate on their feelings, Les Miserables-style. And I kind of mean that in both the "overwrought musical with all the feelings" way and the "Victor Hugo's verbosity" way.

Quinn stood on the bridge of the Fury at a rigid parade rest as Vette entered Rakata Prime’s atmosphere.  It was not the most complicated landing he’d seen, and Vette was the only other member of the crew he would have trusted to complete the maneuver in any case, but even so he had to consciously restrain himself from intervening.  The twi’lek switched from the sublight drive to repulsorlifts far later than was standard procedure, a fact he was sure she was aware of, given how her gaze flicked to him.  Their attitude and speed were also off.  Not enough to cause a problem, he knew, but enough to set his teeth on edge.

“Relax, Captain,” Mara said.

She was standing next to him, scrubbed clean and in fresh armor, her arms crossed as she stared out the viewscreen. To most, she would look like an impassive Sith Lord.  But he knew her well enough to notice her clenched muscles, the way she shifted her feet or rolled her shoulders periodically.  Something had her on edge as well.

Truth be told, focusing on Vette’s deviations from his normal landing procedure was soothing compared to thinking about the mission his wife was embarking on.  He was not to accompany her, a fact that would not rankle had Mara consented to taking any other member of the crew with her.  Instead, she was going alone - to preserve the identity of the crew members and her ship in case she failed and they would need to follow in her stead.  That he knew she would be alone with that blasted SIS agent nearby did not help.

Quinn believed wholeheartedly what he’d felt from Mara during their lovemaking earlier - that she missed him and wanted to find a way forward together - but when he tried to press her on how things stood with Agent Shan, she had been frustratingly vague and evasive.  He did not want to believe it of her, but if she were going alone, not for the sake of the mission, but for the sake of other activities…. He clenched his fists, scanned the pilot’s console.  Vette still had not adjusted to an appropriate approach vector.

“Captain!”

He turned and met Mara’s gaze.  Her brows were furrowed over her amber eyes, her head cocked in concern.  He bowed his head slightly.

“Apologies, my lord.  I was lost in my thoughts.”

“As much as Vette probably appreciates the lessened scrutiny, I need you present, Quinn.”

“Of course, my lord.  It won’t happen again.”  He hesitated, couldn’t help himself.  “Vette, you really must lower our speed.”

Vette turned, a smirk on her face, glanced between him and Mara, and her face softened.  To Quinn’s shock, she obeyed.

“Whatever you say, Captain.”  

Rakata Prime was heavily tropical, and as a result of the dense jungle foliage the landing site was closer to the rendezvous coordinates than Mara had originally instructed.  The area Vette had chosen shifted from rock to ocean-lapped sand less than a kilometer away.  Their scans had picked up only non-sentient life in their immediate vicinity, though there were clusters of sentients further out that indicated either indigenous villages or Revanite camps; they had not had time to determine which.  Mara planned to travel to the rendezvous coordinates by speeder, following the coastline to avoid contact with the local populace.  It was early morning local time; Lord Beniko had hoped to complete the mission before nightfall.

With only slightly more turbulence than Quinn would have liked, Vette put the ship down on the outcropping.

Pierce appeared with a pack.  “Water and rations, m’lord, and a few surprises of my own I thought you might need.”

Quinn narrowed his eyes.  “Surprise” was usually Pierce’s term for various sizes of thermal detonator.  Mara apparently had the same thought.  She hefted the pack, glanced at Pierce, and opened it to sift through its contents.  Sure enough, no fewer than five explosive devices tumbled out of the pack as she unzipped it.  She cursed, and all five devices froze in midair.  Quinn could see at least twice that many remained safely inside.  He gaped - of all the brainless… he opened his mouth to reprimand the lieutenant, but Mara spoke first.

“Stealth is the object here, Lieutenant,” Mara admonished him, collecting the detonators and returning them to the pack.

“Yeah, but you’re going to have to fight at some point, and you’ll be outnumbered.” He scowled.  “It’d be easier to pack for you if I knew what this mission was about.”

“Your difficulty and objections have been noted, Lieutenant Pierce,” Quinn snapped.

“Why am I not surprised you of all people are allowing her to walk into this alone? Afraid you’ll get your pretty uniform dirty, _sir_?”

Quinn’s blaster was in his hand before he realized it, the barrel leveled to fire a shot neatly between Pierce’s eyes.  He would obey his lord’s orders, but he had no cause to listen to this bantha dung from an inferior officer.

“Your insubordination has crossed the line, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice shaking with rage.

Pierce shifted, his hand going for his own sidearm.

“Gentlemen, that is enough!” Mara said sharply, stepping between them, her free hand on Quinn’s wrist, pressing his blaster arm back to his side. Her other hand pressed the pack into Pierce’s chest.  She locked eyes with Quinn and gave a miniscule shake of her head and squeezed his wrist gently.  He holstered his blaster.  She turned back to Pierce, shifting her stance so that she was standing next to and only slight in front of Quinn.

“Do tell me, _Lieutenant_ , how you think you have the right to allow or disallow me anything?”  Her voice was deadly quiet.

Pierce had the good grace to duck his head, looking abashed.

“I have no right at all, of course, m’lord.”

“Very good.  Captain Quinn is following my orders, despite disliking them very much.  I expect you to obey as well.  And Lieutenant?”

“Yes, m’lord?”

“I give you the operational freedom you have because I know that is how you best serve me.  But if you disrespect my executive officer like this again, I will put you on a leash so short you will be begging the Captain for fresher breaks.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, m’lord.”  Pierce scowled, but nodded.  “Apologies, m’lord… Captain.”

“Thank you.  Now,  please repack this.  I’ll keep the water and rations, _two_ thermal detonators, the slicing spike, and the utility blaster.”

“Very good, my lord.”  He took the pack from her and left the bridge.

“You know he’s going to give you at least five thermal detonators instead of two,” Vette said from the pilot’s seat.

“Of course I know; why else would I only ask for two?,” Mara replied, turning back to Quinn and raising an eyebrow.  “Try not to shoot your subordinates, Captain.  It won’t make you feel any better about this mission.”

“As you say, my lord,” he replied stiffly.  She was right, of course; even if hearing Pierce scream would give him some measure of satisfaction, he was going to worry about her no matter what.

Mara sighed as Jaesa entered the bridge.

“Master, I…. I feel something.  Something dark.”  Her hand came up to her head, as if she had a physical pain.

“I know, I feel it, too.”  She touched Jaesa’s shoulder.  “It’s vague - unless you feel something more?”

 _So that’s the reason for her nervous shifting_ , Quinn thought uncomfortably.

Jaesa shook her head.  “No; when I try to focus it shifts away.  I’m sorry, master.”

She squeeze her apprentice’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly.  I will be all right.  Maybe Vette could help you figure it out.”

Vette shot Mara a look that was pure venom, until she turned and saw the way Jaesa was looking at her.  

Quinn looked back and forth between  the twi’lek and the apprentice for several moments before realization dawned.  “Wonderful,” he muttered.

Mara shot him a small smile, then turned back to Vette.  

“My speeder?” She prompted.

Vette shook herself and turned back to the console, pressed a few buttons. “Just dropped it.”

Pierce reappeared with her pack.  She took it.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

She settled the pack on her shoulders and looked at each of them in turn, ending on a long look with Quinn before turning and leaving the bridge.  He waited a few moments, indecisive, before following her.  She was halfway down the boarding ramp before he caught up to her.  He grabbed her elbow and turned her toward him.  Her hand gripped his forearm and she looked into his eyes.

“This… this thing you and Jaesa are feeling,” he said, fumbling for words, knowing what her answer would be.  “Are you sure it should not change the mission parameters?”

She smiled gently and squeezed his arm.  

“You know that’s not possible.  This is our best shot at this.  At least part of what I’m feeling is time running out until… something.  Remember what I asked you to do, Malavai, should I fail.”

He remembered.  A datastick containing everything Lord Beniko and Agent Shan had found was in one of the pouches on his utility belt.  Mara hadn’t even encrypted it, just asked him not to look at it unless she was missing for longer than six hours and they needed to complete the mission.  It was the most trust she’d shown him in a year.  He would have honored those conditions in any case, but in this instance it was easy.  Looking at the data now would be an admission, however faint, that she could fail to return.

“I cannot promise-” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.  He swallowed and began again.  “I will try, but if you do not come back…”

She reached out to touch his cheek.  He pressed his face into her palm.

“I swear to you I will do everything I can to come home, Malavai.”  Her voice turned playful.  “I’m shocked you think you could be rid of me so easily.  I have only just gotten you back, remember.”

He wanted to ask her about Agent Shan.  The words were waiting, but he pushed them back.  He hated himself for giving in to the sense of doom pervading everything, but he did not want that man to be the last thing they spoke of, if indeed the worst should happen.

Instead, he covered her hand in his and turned his head to kiss her palm, inhaling her scent.

“You are indeed a persistent woman, much to my good fortune,” he agreed with a smile.  “Good hunting, my love.  I will be waiting.”

He squeezed her hand before letting it drop and walked back up the ramp.

 

Lying on his stomach on an outcropping of rock near the rendezvous site, Theron dialed up the magnification on his macrobinoculars as the ship that had landed a few moments ago lowered its boarding ramp. Mara appeared, and when she was half way down he saw her husband trot down the ramp to catch her arm.  He saw her touch his face with what seemed at this distance to be tenderness before exiting the ship completely and mounting a speeder that had dropped from the ship’s cargo hold.

He returned the binocs to his pack with more force than was strictly necessary and jabbed at his comm.

“She’s here, maybe twenty minutes away by speeder. I’ll be back to camp soon.”

Lana acknowledged and he keyed off. He scrambled back into the underbrush before straightening to walk back to the rendezvous coordinates.

He was _not_ going to be bothered by this, he insisted to himself as he walked back to camp.  Honestly there was no way that moment between them was any of his business in the first place.  It wasn’t like he was unaware of her husband when she’d fucked him senseless.  No, she’d been completely honest and upfront about the other person in her life; he had not returned that favor.  He thought it didn’t matter; he was currently unattached, and Mara was willing.  But now his stomach twisted whenever he thought of either Mara or Czess, the woman he was trying to forget.

As if he’d ever want to forget Czessara, even if she kept herself sequestered on Tython for the rest of his days.  Which he really hoped she would not do; he missed her.

This was going to take some getting used to.

If he wanted to get used to it.

If _Mara_ still wanted to get used to it; seeing her with her husband, they didn’t really look like a couple experiencing marital problems.  But then, how would he know?  It’s not like he knew Mara, at all.  And he and Czess had probably looked pretty cozy right up until they weren’t.

He snorted.  “Uncomplicated fun”, Mara had called this.  The sex had been great, but otherwise this situation was not quite as advertised.

Theron had tried, during the trip out here, to gather any information the Republic had on the Emperor’s Wrath.  He wasn’t sure why - perhaps to assure himself that he hadn’t slept with pure evil incarnate, that maybe if she were truly a nice Sith, Czess would forgive him.

It hadn’t helped, really.  The basic information - her full name, the brief wedding announcement carried by the holonet - painted a portrait of a woman with impeccable Imperial pedigree.  Sith features despite being at least half human, deep generational ties to the Sith Order on her mother’s side, and to the Imperial military through her father and husband.  She had been a thorn in the side of the Republic, Jedi, and SIS for years, and consistently turned the tide of battle in the Empire’s favor wherever she turned up.  The one intriguing tidbit was that the SIS had made the connection between Lady Maranel Thrask and the Emperor’s Wrath independently; all of the public information referred to Darth Mara only in her capacity as the head of a powerful house.  It seemed that either she or her handlers wanted to keep her title secret until she was unleashed.

The one bright spot was a report filed by Jedi Master Timmns.  Timmns had filed a detailed report, and spoken effusively to the Jedi Council, about working with Lord Mara on Belsavis to find and defeat a Darth Ekkage.  The Council had noted its skepticism of the story.  Theron wasn’t sure who was right, at this point.  He wanted to believe Timmns was correct, but… this was the woman who also spoke rapturously of flaying a traitor alive.

Lana looked up expectantly as he walked into camp.  “You placed the sensors?”

“Yep. We’ll be able to see just about everything up to the entrance to the building.  We’ll need Mara to drop a spike once she’s inside so we can slice into their internal systems.”

Lana nodded.  “As expected.  Jakarro is scouting the Rakatan camps and will return soon.  It would seem we are ready.”

“Yeah.”  Theron paused, trying to sound nonchalant. “How long have you worked with Mara?”

Lana raised an eyebrow. “Certainly not long enough to use her given name.”

“Lord Wrath seems so… formal.  And I call you Lana.  That’s… okay, I hope.”

Lana chuckled softly. “I have voluntarily eschewed titles, Theron; using my first name is perfectly appropriate.  For the Wrath, it is different.  I’ve known her by reputation for years, of course, but I only met the Wrath when I recruited her to lead the assault on Tython.”

“So she’s a model Sith Lord.”

Lana sighed and shook her head.  “Did neither of you think at all of the consequences before you acted?  Theron, I cannot help you with this.  One does not get to be the Emperor’s Wrath without demonstrating an exceptional loyalty and eagerness to serve the Empire.”

Theron scrubbed his hands through his hair.  “I know… I know!  But she seems so... “ _Kriffing hell, Shan, don’t say normal, don’t say normal…._

“Normal?”

Theron jumped, spun in the direction of her voice.  Mara stood a few meters away from them, leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing.  She was smiling, but there was an edge to her posture.  Lana’s hand was over her mouth, her shoulders twitching slightly as she held in a laugh.

“I realize it must be shocking for you to learn that even Sith are complicated sentient beings, but I must confess I had no idea you’d squirm so much over it, Theron.”

Seeing her again in person, after ruminating so much for the last few hours, made his heart race even as his stomach twisted.  What the hell was the matter with him?

“Yeah, I… sorry.  This is new to me,” he said, unwilling to say more with Lana standing within earshot.

As if she’d heard him, Lana stood.  

“I should go find Jakarro; he should have been back now.”  She glanced between Theron and Mara pointedly.  “I’ll only be a few minutes, so don’t do… anything.”

Mara laughed, unslinging her pack and sitting down on a nearby rock.  

“Sorry about that.  I just… like to know who I’m dealing with,” Theron said quietly.

She studied him with those disconcerting golden eyes of hers.  “So I take it you were also digging up information on Lana?  To know who you were dealing with?”

“Not so much, no,” he admitted.  “But I didn’t sleep with Lana.  I guess… I don’t know, I’m hoping you’re a decent person.”

“Are you a decent person, Theron?  Because I don’t see that much difference between us; I’m sure you have done things you regret in the service of your people, as have I.  But largely I am proud of my role I have played in the war thus far.”

He was silent at that; being compared to a Sith Lord was not something that had ever happened to him, and he did not enjoy it.  Especially when, put in those terms, she was not necessarily wrong.

She sighed.  “I don’t see that it matters.  You are not taking me home to meet your mother, or anyone else in the Republic you would introduce your lovers to.”

He sighed in turn.  She was right, of course; beyond whatever time they might eke out after this mission was over, this really couldn’t go much further.  He’d be back to the Republic, and to jumping on every unmarked holocall in case it was Czess.

Theron moved to sit next to her and did a doubletake when he saw the bruise on her cheek.  He reached out almost involuntarily, cupping her chin in his hand and running his finger over the mark with his other hand.

“Was this from the lab?”

“Hmm?  No.  Malavai and I had a… discussion… about our arrangement.”  She smiled, her eyes staring through Theron without seeing him.

Theron felt his lip twist.  He knew there was no way a Force-blind Imperial officer could lay a hand on her if she wanted to stop him.  And that grin, intimate and fond… clearly she had enjoyed it.  That stab he felt in his chest was definitely not jealousy, he decided.  Nope, not at all.  That would be stupid and unwarranted.  Mara hissed lightly and he realized his hand had tightened around her chin.

“Does that frighten you?” she asked.  

 _It should scare me away_ , he thought.   _Kriff, this is stupid_.  He willed himself to say the words.  Instead, he turned her head to the side, ran his fingertips down the exposed side of her neck, heard the small sound she made in the back of her throat.

“You have gall, Agent Shan.  I like that.”

His heart jumped against his ribs.  He leaned over and gently kissed her neck, came up to her ear and whispered, “Later.”

She groaned softly, and he nearly changed his mind on the spot, despite Lana’s warning.  Fortunately Theron could hear Deefour, Jakarro’s translator droid, a short distance away. He grinned at Mara and kissed her lips briefly.  A look of shock flitted across her face.

As he pulled away, that twisty feeling in his gut returned.  He stood abruptly.

“We need to get this mission started if we’re going to finish before we lose the light.”

 

The four of them went over the mission plan while Mara ate one of the ration bars Pierce packed for her.  While extracting it, she realized the Lieutenant had left double Vette’s estimate of thermal detonators.  She sighed, taking a bite, mulling over whether to reprimand him when she returned to her ship.

She ate only half the ration bar.  Her stomach was in knots.  Given their awkwardness after their encounter, and especially after her conversation with Quinn, she had not expected Theron’s presence to affect her in the same way.  Yet here she was, ready to leap into the bushes together if time had allowed.  More confusingly, that desire seemed to exist side-by-side with her feelings for her husband, both separate little knots of emotion in her mind.  That might have been livable, if she hadn’t also felt guilty about it all.  Guilt for letting Theron touch her again, if only briefly; guilt for enjoying it; guilt for wanting more.  

Theron’s sense seemed to mirror hers, which she was beginning to realize had nothing to do with her loyalties or decency, no matter how much Theron seemed to be using his ideas on that score to soothe himself.  There was something in his own life.  Some _one_ in his own life.  She was tempted to ask him about it, to see him squirm some more, but there wasn’t time, and as she’d told him, it didn’t matter.  This would be over within the day, one way or another.

She took another look at the half-eaten ration bar, grimaced, and shoved it into a pouch on her utility belt.    

The briefing didn’t take long.  Really the plan was “cut a path through the Revanites to Arkous and Darok, carry them out”, with logistical and slicing support provided by Theron and Lana from Jakarro’s ship in orbit, and distracting chaos provided by the Wookie himself and the droid strapped to his chest (Deefour, it seemed, was going along only under extreme duress).  

It was simple, blunt, and precisely the type of plan that took advantage of Mara’s strengths.  By all rights, it would work.  But that foreboding feeling hadn’t gone away.

“Lana, Theron, I’d like it if you left one of the shuttles here, just in case you can’t get to me.”

“Of course,” Lana replied.  “I will leave my shuttle behind.”

“One more thing - Lana, that disturbance you have been feeling, is it worse here?”

“It is, my lord.”  Lana started, stared at her.  “You feel it also?”

“I do, yes.” _Bloody hell._ “At least we know we’re in the right place.”

Theron looked at them both.  “Do we need to change our plans?”

Mara shook her head.  “No.  Kriff, it’s too vague to be of any use aside from making me uncomfortable.  But you should know I’ve put in place a contingency plan.”

“Lord Wrath, you didn’t tell your crew…”

“No.  I left them a data stick with all the information you gave me.  They have instructions to take up the mission if I go missing for six hours or more.”

“That’s a big risk you took without asking us,” Theron said.

“I know.  But it was necessary.  My crew is an eclectic group, but I trust them to finish this if I can’t.  Lana has the codes to contact the Fury if I don’t make it and you need help.”  She paused.  “Although, in that instance, if it’s possible for Lana to make the call, that would be preferable.  Captain Quinn will be… difficult in any case.”  

Theron was staring at her, his face unreadable, his sense awash in conflicting emotion.

“This is hardly the cheerful attitude I’d hoped we’d begin this mission with,” Deefour said, and Jakarro growled his agreement.

Mara smiled.  “I may be able to help with that.  Jakarro, do you think you could find a use for these?”

She pulled the data spike and a couple of the detonators out of her pack and pushed the remainder gingerly toward the Wookie.

“Master Jakarro, Life Day came early this year!” the droid crowed.

“You drove over here with a pack full of explosives?” Lana gaped.

Mara shrugged.  “My black ops specialist has a bit of a nurturing streak.”

She finished stowing the items she’d taken from her pack in her utility belt and stood. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

They separated, Lana and Theron heading toward a shuttle, Jakarro disappearing into the jungle.  Theron paused and looked over his shoulder at her.  She held his gaze for a moment, reaching out to read his sense.  Despite their discussion earlier, he cared what happened to her, beyond the success of the mission.  And she wanted him to be safe as well.

She flashed him a smile.  He nodded in return, and continued toward the shuttle.  

Mara turned toward the path leading into the jungle, her lightsaber in her hand but unignited.  It was time to make the traitors pay.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Vette bond. Quinn and Mara reach a turning point. Mara is both badass and kind of a coward. Theron is complicated. Content note for descriptions of injury.

She had been gone three hours.  Even if Quinn’s internal chronometer had been unreliable, he was sure because her comm had sent its third hourly burst of static several minutes ago.  The static was meaningless, but the comm only broadcast if the wearer’s vitals were within a prescribed range, and did so at a frequency not used by either Imperial or Republic forces.  The bursts looked like background radiation to the casual observer; the perfect passive all clear message.  Pierce had suggested it after their second trip to Quesh, when Quinn and Mara nearly died in an explosion triggered by Lord Draahg and were unable to call for help.

It was one of the Lieutenant’s very few good ideas.

Quinn was at the datastation in the medbay.  He had already run an inventory check and tracked down a few missing materials, and the diagnostic on the kolto tank had just completed.  He reviewed the report, hoping to find some niggling error that would require hours of digging at the code level to isolate, but the blasted thing was functioning optimally.  Jaesa had clearly done her part in keeping the medbay equipment in good shape.  The apprentice had approached him after Corellia and asked to learn more about field medicine.  She was clearly worried after Mara’s near miss and was looking to improve her usefulness to the crew.  He had acquiesced; he had nothing against the girl despite her origins, and wanted to encourage her loyalty to their lord specifically and the Empire overall.  Jaesa had absorbed his lessons eagerly and treated the medbay with as much care as he did.  

Which he appreciated when he was not looking for a way to keep himself from counting the minutes between his wife’s comm pings while she participated in a mission whose plan Quinn could only hope had been more hers and Lord Beniko’s than Agent Shan’s.  He hated the idea of trusting his wife’s life to the hope of Republic competence.

“Captain.”  

Vette’s voice shook him out of his reverie.

“Yes, Vette?”

“You should come to the bridge.  I have something you need to see.”

He straightened and followed her.  He looked around; everything was operating normally.  A cup of caf was sitting next to the pilot’s chair.  Vette picked it up and handed it to him.

“You seemed like you could use this.”

Quinn felt his eyes narrow as he took the cup from her and sniffed it.  It smelled normal, but with Vette one could never be too careful.

“What do you want, Vette?”

She raised both hands in a placating gesture.

“Nothing, yeesh.  I just… look, I’m worried about Mara, too.  And I have an idea, but I feel like I kind of need your permission.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I could slice her comm.”

“You could what?”  Quinn sputtered. “Vette, that would reveal her location - to say nothing of any voice or visual data - to anyone with a half working sensor package pointed at the right frequency.”

“No, it won’t.  Our comms have a scrambler on board; I can activate it from here and pull the feed through it on the same frequency as her check in bursts.  There’ll be a delay while our comm unscrambles the signal, but trust me, no one will even know to look for it, let alone know what it is if they stumbled on it.”

Quinn paused, then shook his head. “I will not endanger her like that.”

Vette glared at him.  “And you think I would?  I know you’re her husband, but you’re not the only one on board who loves her.”

Quinn stared at her for a long moment.  “Do you know for a certainty you can do this safely?”

She nodded.  “I know what I’m doing.  I kind of used to do this to evade Imperial and Republic patrols back in the day.  No one caught on.”

Quinn massaged his temples.   _What are you doing, Malavai_.  “Then do it.”

Vette nodded and began typing commands into the communications console.  

“May I ask you something, Vette?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you tell me?  You do not usually bother to ask permission for such things.”

“I thought you’d want to be here.  You aren’t exactly a subtle worrier, Captain.”

“Yes, but… I would not expect kindness from you, given our history and my recent… mistakes.”

Vette paused and looked at him.  “You’ve gotten nicer since Baras died.  You treat me like I have value now.”  She grinned.  “And I’m a romantic; I want you two crazy kids to make it.”

“I… thank you, Vette,” he said awkwardly.

“Don’t mention it.”

She turned back to the console.  After several long minutes, the holo came to life and a small, grainy image appeared, of two people seated at a console.  Lana Beniko, and that had to be SIS Agent Shan next to her.  They were receiving Mara’s comm feed.  Quinn squinted at the image, trying to get a better look at the man.  Beyond  a jacket that made him look like a child masquerading as a smuggler, Quinn couldn’t get much of a read on him.

“-on, why isn’t this sensor working?” Lana asked.

“Because Jakarro’s not a big fan of upkeep,” the Republic agent replied.  “It’s probably a bad relay, let me go check.”

Lana looked over her shoulder as he disappeared out of range of the holo, then suggested to Mara that she manually shut down the cyborgs and preserve the data about their tech for Imperial use.

“At least I know you’re not getting too cozy with the Republic spy,” Mara’s voice said in response.  Quinn could hear the raised eyebrow in her voice.

“Did you really just say that to me?” Lana replied, her conspiratorial smile taking any sting out of her words.

“My fifteen minutes of indiscretion involved nothing classified, unless the military has made some changes to its designation of my person that I am unaware of,” Mara replied dryly.  “At any rate, you’re right.  Let’s make sure the Empire can put this data to good use.”

Lana’s image disappeared, and for a time they were receiving audio only, the sounds of Mara’s lightsaber and an unknown number of assailants dying.

Quinn barely heard it, instead felt a blush spread across his face.  Lord Beniko knew.  And she just… he turned, and Vette was staring at him.  She glanced at the console to make sure they weren’t transmitting on the comm frequency before she spoke.

“Kriff, Quinn, I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

He pressed his hands to his face for a moment.  He was embarrassed, but oddly… “my fifteen minutes of indiscretion”, she’d said.  It had only been the once.  And she had come to him directly after.  His heart slowed down a little.

“It is all right, Vette,” he said quietly.  

“What… really?”

“Well, not yet, perhaps.  But I believe it will be.”  He looked at her.  “I am sorry you seem to be destined to know more about our marriage than is appropriate.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

The holo came back to life as Mara reconnected to the ship Lana was on.

Agent Shan was back, grousing about his instructions not being followed.

“We couldn’t make it work,” Mara said.

“What? Are you sure? What’d you try?”

“Everything,” Lana said.

There was a pause.

“Okay...  That sensor was _fine_ by the way, I don’t know what the problem is.”

“Was, it’s gone now,” Lana said nonchalantly.

Quinn shook his head.  Shan was out of his depth with these two.

“Um, Mara, I’m getting some strange readings from your comm feed.  Is there a reason your scrambler’s active?”  Suspicion tinged Shan’s voice.

Quinn and Vette exchanged a look, and Vette dove for the communications panel.

“I thought you said you could guarantee her safety!” Quinn snapped.

“I didn’t know he could get a reading on the scrambler!”  Vette shot back.  “No one’s done that before.  This guy is good.  I mean… he’s scum, obviously, grrr” she said in response to something she saw in Quinn’s face, “but good at his job.”  

“I didn’t activate it.  Is it transmitting a second signal?” Mara said to Agent Shan.

“Not that I can tell… why?”  

Vette shot Quinn a triumphant look.

Mara chuckled.  “No, of course you can’t.   _Starscape_ , is that you?”

“What? Who are you talking to?” That was Agent Shan again.  

 _Starscape_ was the alias they were running under currently.  A generic name for a generic trader worth no one’s notice.

Vette winced and reached for the transmitter, activated their own scrambler.

“Yeah, boss.  We’re here.”

“Mara!” Agent Shan looked like he was ready to put his fist through a console.  Quinn decided he hated the way the man said her name.

“We talked about the need for secrecy, _Starscape_.”

“You know no one guards your back like we do,” Vette replied.  “We’re worried about you and some of your new… friends.”

“Look, I’m tired of-” Agent Shan began.

Vette kept talking over him.  “Also, Dad said I could.”

Quinn glared at her, one hand smoothing his hair unconsciously.  Vette laughed.

“Did he, now?” Mara said, amusement thick in her voice.  “I take it there is only the two of you on the bridge?”

“Yep.”

“Close the door.  You may continue monitoring this channel.  But if I tell you to close the channel and run, you do it without questions.  Understood?”

Quinn moved to do as she instructed, sealing the two of them on the bridge.

“Lord Wrath, I must protest,” Lana said.

“Can you see any evidence of the transmission other than my scrambler?”

“Um… no.  I’d love to know how they’re doing that,” Agent Shan muttered.  “This is a bad idea, though.”

“Noted, Theron.  Lana, do you have any other grumblings to add?”

“No, my lord.  Theron covered them, but it seems your assessment of your crew’s abilities was correct.”

“Good.  Now get me to Arkous and Darok.”

* * *

 

“Revan’s powering up his turbolasers.  Get out of there!’ Theron yelled at her.

Mara was yelling into her comm in return.  “ _Starscape_ , cut the channel and get out of here now.  I’ll catch up to you when I can.”

She cut the channel on her end, hoping Quinn and Vette would listen despite seeing a capital ship firing its full weapon complement at her from point-blank range.

She took off running as hard as she could as the laserfire began to rain down, using her rage to draw the Force into her mind and body, dodging laser blasts, and infusing her leg muscles to leap up the seven meter wall to the platform above.  She took three more steps and then jumped again, this time off the side of the temple.  The ground, thirty floors down, rushed up at her.

She turned in the air as she fell, drawing her utility blaster and rotating the barrel to a grappling setting.  She was midway through the turn when she saw a torpedo hit the side of the temple and explode a couple of meters above her.  The shock wave slammed into her.  Her armor buckled around her and she felt several ribs crack.  The edges of her vision darkened, but she clung stubbornly to the Force, aimed the utility blaster, and fired.

The hook found purchase, and she bit back a pained cry as the line tightened and yanked her arms nearly out of their sockets.  She arced gracefully toward the side of the temple, catching herself with both legs.  Her Force-enhanced muscles held.  She paused for a moment to take a breath as debris rained around her and her mind adjusted to the amount of pain coursing through her body.  Her ribs were not the only thing damaged by the torpedo blast.

Mara didn’t recognize the tingling warning at the back of her mind until it was too late.  She jumped to her right, but a huttball-sized chunk of the temple, propelled by another torpedo blast far above her, hit her left knee.  Her leg collapsed with a sickening crunch as the joint gave way.  This time she did scream, but she drank in the pain and began rappelling down the building as fast as her injuries would allow, supporting herself on her right leg.  By the time she hit the ground she was trembling, her body sliding into shock despite her best efforts.  Standing was completely out of the question.  She crawled as far as she could into the underbrush and reached into her belt for her comm.  She sighed with relief that it appeared undamaged.

She activated it, taking care to make sure the scrambler was functioning, then clutched it to her body with both hands and let the darkness take her.

* * *

 

Mara became aware of the quiet first as she climbed her way out of unconsciousness.  Well, relative quiet, at least when compared to a capital ship firing at her head.  She could hear a familiar voice issuing instructions, the whispering hiss of a door closing, the comforting hum of a ship’s hyperdrive.  Then, the pain.  Less than she expected, given recent events, but constant, pulsing in her torso and her left leg.  He must have dosed her with a painkiller already.  She forced her eyes open, knowing she would be greeted with the sight of her own medbay.

Quinn stood at the datastation opposite the bed, his back to her, studying what she was sure were scans of her injuries.  Others may have mistaken his stiff posture for mere professionalism, but she could have identified it as tension even if she hadn’t been able to feel it through the Force.

“Have I ever mentioned you have the most startlingly perfect arse I’ve ever seen?” she asked.

He jumped slightly and turned toward her, a blush coloring his face.  She smiled.  It had been a long time since he had reacted that way to her flirting.  She would not trade their current familiarity for those early days of vine cat and prey, but it pleased her that she could still surprise him sometimes.

He shook his head, bemused, and hurried to her side, reaching out to stroke her sweaty, tangled hair.  “That would be the first thing you’d say to me, wouldn’t it?”  

“I came through fire and hell just to deliver that message.”

“Persistent to the last,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned down to kiss her gently.

Mara sighed happily as his lips met hers, drinking in the warmth of his face and his hand on her head.  It was as opposite as possible from the last time they had been in this room together, when his betrayal had caused her injuries.  She turned the thought over in her mind, examining it.  The memory did not inspire anger, as it might have even a month or two ago.  It was sad, upsetting… and past, she realized with a start.  When had that happened?

Quinn had broken the kiss, but he was still bent over the bed, his forehead pressed against hers, and his anxiety had not quieted in the least.  If anything his tension was building.  She must have been bad off if he was this worried.

“Malavai,” she said quietly.  “Darling, look at me.”

He straightened slightly so their eyes could meet.  

“What is my prognosis, Captain?”

She spoke gently and deliberately used his rank.  He snapped back to business, straightening entirely, and his breathing slowed a little.

“Surprisingly good, my lord, considering.”  He took another breath. “You had some internal bleeding, which I have stabilized for the moment, and four broken ribs.  A day or two in the kolto tank should be sufficient for those injuries.  Your knee, however, may require surgery.  I will know more after I see how well it responds to the kolto.”

So that was why he had her flat on her back instead of in a sitting position; too much movement was going to aggravate both her ribs and her internal injuries.

“Thank you, Captain.  How shall we proceed?”

“Ah… I need to remove your armor and clean any abrasions you may have.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t started that already,” she said playfully.

His nervousness spiked.  She cocked her head at him.

“What is wrong, Captain?  You just said I am going to be fine.”

“I…” he shifted. “Forgive me, my lord I cannot help remembering…” He trailed off.

She reached down and, with difficulty, unlatched one of her gloves and pulled it off, then reached out and took one of his hands in hers, their palms touching and fingers interlocked, white with red.  He stared at their hands for a moment.  She waited for his eyes to meet hers before she spoke.

“I do forgive you, Malavai.  For everything.”

For a moment he was simply blank with shock.  Then relief and residual shame flowed out of his sense as he collapsed next to the bed, gripping her hand in both of his and pressing it to his lips.  She reached over her body with her other arm, wincing as her insides protested, and stroked his hair.  

He jerked backward a little.  

“My lord, you mustn’t - you will aggravate your injuries.”

“It’s worth it.”

“I must disagree, respectfully,” he replied.

“We have more work to do,” she said, “But I want you to understand what it means that I am ready to begin.”

“I… I look forward to it, Mara.”

Her name on his lips made her smile. She grabbed the front of his uniform and pulled him up to her.  After a painfully short kiss, he pulled back.

“We must get you into the kolto tank.”

“Yes, indeed,” she said as he moved down to begin removing her boots.  “How long was I out?”

He paused a fraction of a second. “It has been just over three hours since you reactivated your comm, my lord,” he said carefully.

Three hours to get to the surface, find her, bring her back, and begin treating her wounds.

“You disobeyed my orders,” she said.

“I did, my lord.”  He bowed his head even as he pulled off her other boot, then began working on her leg armor.  “I cut the comm as you ordered, but we remained in system in the shadow of one of Rakata Prime’s moons.  We exploited a blind spot in the Revanite fleet’s deployment to land on the surface.  I made the call and accept full responsibility.”

“Thank you, Captain.  For your candor and for your quick thinking.”

“My lord?”

“I should have taken one of you to the surface with me.  Not to follow me in - getting off the roof of the temple on my own was hard enough - but having some backup on the ground would have saved me a very long fall.  Staying close may have saved my life.”

“I… thank you, my lord.”

He had removed all of her outer armor expertly; only the thin body suit remained.  He grabbed a vibroscalpel and began cutting her out of the thin fabric, peeling it back as if she were a piece of fruit.  Mara allowed her eyes to close as he worked, enjoying the comfortable silence between them.  After a time, the significance of feeling the hyperdrive hit her.  She opened her eyes again.

“What is our heading?”

“Back to Manaan, my lord” he said, carefully removing the last of her clothing from her chest and arms.  He paused for a fraction of a second as he took in her naked body - anyone else may not have noticed, but Mara knew her husband - before continuing. “We received a coded message from Lord Beniko asking you to meet her there.”

Mara sighed.  “I shall have to come out of the kolto early to meet with Lana and Theron.”

Quinn left her side for a moment and returned with an antiseptic and clean gauze.

“My lord, that would be most inadvisable.  If I may be so bold, I could go in your stead.”

Mara hissed as he set to cleaning the scrapes and cuts caused by the joints of her armor buckling in the torpedo blast.

“Could you, now,” she said, trying to decide if she were amused, insulted, or relieved by the suggestion. “Malavai, if you have something to ask me, please do so.”

He turned her head away from him to clean some scrapes on her neck.  Some of his earlier anger had returned, but despite the clench in his jaw, his hands remained gentle as he worked.

“Were you planning to sleep with him again?  If you had not been injured?”

 _No_ , came the immediate response in her mind.  But then she remembered how easily she and Theron had fallen back into inappropriate familiarity on Rakata Prime.  His fingertips stroking her neck, his warm lips all too briefly on hers.

“I was not planning to, no,” she said.

“Would you have?” He pressed, clearly seeing the distinction in what she said.  His hands gently but firmly turning her face toward his.

She stared into his eyes for a long moment.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “Maybe.”   _Probably_.  It was her turn to avert her eyes in shame, but not before she saw the hurt in his.

 _Stars, I hate feeling like this_. In the space between heartbeats, she made a decision.

“You’re right; you should go in my place,” she said.

“What?”  He sounded so shocked, and hopeful.

This was better.   _Better for whom?_ came the thought.  Mara pushed that away.  This was a clean break, no lingering... anything that both she and Theron would regret later.  They all deserved better than that, including Quinn.

“You are right.  I can barely stand and I’m sure we will be arriving in system too soon for me to heal very much.  You are second in command of this vessel and the appropriate choice.”

He touched her cheek, the relief in his sense indicating he understood this was her way of ending the affair.  She reached up and covered his hand with hers, held his gaze.

“Just, please… be dignified.  You have nothing to prove, Malavai.”

He nodded, a little curtly, and then moved to retrieve the breath mask and IV lines that would be necessary for her stay in the kolto tank.

* * *

 

“Theron.”

Lana’s voice yanked Theron’s head up from his datapad.  If he hadn’t been so preoccupied - brooding over the price he and Lana had paid for this mission, looking for a suitable hellhole to curl up in until the Revanites stopped hunting them, trying very hard not to worry about the fact that it had been four hours since they’d heard from Mara - he would have noticed the hint of warning in her voice.  Instead, his brain bypassed that information and jumped on one fact: Mara was finally here.  She was alive.

He put on his most winning smile and turned around. “I knew you had to be harder to kill than-“

The last word caught in his throat as his eyes met the cold blue gaze of Captain Malavai Quinn.  

Quinn’s face was so perfectly neutral it had to be a mask for whatever his actual feelings were, a hint of which Theron was fairly certain he could decipher given how the man’s hands clenched into fists when their eyes met.  

“Is Mara okay?  Is she alive?” Theron demanded.  Some part of his brain remembered that this was the husband of the woman he had slept with barely 24 hours ago, and that pressing him like this could be dangerous.  He didn’t care.

“The Lord Wrath,” Quinn emphasised each syllable of her title pointedly, “is injured but alive.  We were still in system when she called for help and were able to get to her before her injuries became lethal.”

He looked at Lana and bowed politely.  “My lord. The Wrath has briefed me on the particulars of this mission and asked me to plan the next stage of the campaign in her stead.”

Theron could not keep the annoyance out of his voice. “We told her to keep this need to know.”

“Theron, that’s enough,” Lana said, a warning in her voice.

“No, it’s not.”  He glared at Quinn.  “First you hack her comm channel - a spectacularly dangerous move, by the way - and then you disobeyed her orders to get out of the Rakata system?  Why am I not surprised you don’t respect _Mara_ ,” he emphasised her name, “enough to follow her orders?”

Quinn turned toward Theron, his hand settling on the butt of his blaster.  Theron didn’t need the Force to know how close he was to being shot.

“Leaving the Wrath’s crew out of the Rakata assault was a mistake that nearly cost my lord her life,” Quinn said, his voice low and smooth as ice.  His angry gaze shifted to include Lana.  “Neither of you went back for her.  We did.  Had we not disobeyed her orders…” He trailed off, and Theron was sure he could hear the creak of the other man’s glove as he gripped his blaster tighter.  Quinn took a breath.  “I will not apologize for saving her life, and you should both know I will risk anything, up to and including my own execution, to ensure her safety.”

His eyes locked with Theron’s with that last sentence, the unspoken threat clear.

Theron felt his face warming, a combination of shame and anger.  As much as they’d hoped for her survival, they had indeed left Mara to die.  Not an easy or acceptable loss, at all, but she knew the risks.  It was part of the mission.  If it had been Czess on that temple roof, though…

Despite that, or because of it, he lashed out at the man before him.

“Yeah, spoken like a true hero,” Theron said sarcastically.

Theron found himself staring down the barrel of Quinn’s blaster.  He hadn’t even seen the other man draw; the barrel was simply in front of his face.

“Get out.”

Lana stepped between them. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” she said over her shoulder to Theron, her voice charged with reproach.  “Help Jakarro get his ship prepped. I will finish up here and join you.”

He looked back and forth between the Sith Lord and the Imperial Captain for a few heartbeats.

“Yeah, sure. Fine.”

“Tell your wife I said hello,” he drawled at Quinn as he stalked past.

Theron half expected to feel a blaster bolt sear through his back before he was out of Quinn’s line of sight.  Honestly, he deserved it for that last comment.

Turns out a rebound fuck with a married Sith Lord had been a bad idea.  On every level.  Who knew.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara and Quinn find some closure to recent events, Quinn stepping in to care not just for his wife but also her crew. Mara notices.  
> And then... the sex. Glorious, mutually in love, kind of adorable, kind of rough, sex.

This time when Mara clawed her way back to consciousness the pain she remembered was largely gone, replaced by a generalized stiffness that came from days of not moving under her own power.  Her head was cold, but soft, light fabric caressed her skin from her armpits down.  She opened her eyes to find her husband looking down at her, his face more relaxed than she’d seen it in recent memory.  

“Welcome back,” he said quietly, stroking her wet hair.

“How long?”

“Two days.  Your knee was healing well according to the scans I took through the kolto, so I left you for an additional day.”

Mara nodded, a shiver running through her.  After two days in a carefully temperature-controlled environment, her body had not yet re-adjusted to regulating itself.  Quinn tucked the blanket more tightly around her, his left hand hand lingering on her right hip.  It was warm.  She reached for his other hand, gripped it in both of hers, holding it against her chest.  

“I can bring a second blanket,” he said.

Mara shook her head.  “No need; I will adjust.  I’d just rather you stayed, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.  Vette has taken my duty shift today so that I can look after you.”  He paused. “Would you consent to letting Jaesa examine you?  She has been helping me, and I would like to test her prognostic skills.”

Mara smiled.  “What is my prognosis?”

“Excellent, dear.  You should be up and about today, but the knee will need some work to get back into fighting shape.”

Mara nodded.  “You can bring her in whenever you wish.”

Quinn kissed her forehead and moved to the door of the medbay.  Jaesa appeared a few moments later, her eyes wide but her mouth pressed in a determined line.

“How are you feeling, master?” she asked.

“Cold and stiff,” Mara replied with a wink.  “But I hear that’s normal.”

Jaesa took the scanner from the data station and began moving it over Mara’s body, pausing periodically to discuss the results with Quinn.  Mara watched them, a warmth building in her chest.  Jaesa had always been eager to please and harsh on herself, a combination that projected a lack of confidence.  Mara had tried to coax her into a stronger bearing, knowing full well the apprentice would be eaten alive by her fellow Sith without it.  But here, Jaesa moved the scanner and addressed the captain with a relaxed confidence that Mara had never seen before.

“Very good, Jaesa.  Please inform our lord of your findings,” Quinn was saying.

“Master,” Jaesa began, “the course of kolto recommended by Captain Quinn has performed as expected.  Your internal injuries are completely healed.  Your knee will remain tender for the next few days, but it will require no additional, invasive treatment.  You will need to strengthen it slowly to return to fighting form.”

Mara found herself smiling.  “I shall do as you order, Jaesa, thank you.”

The apprentice beamed at them both.

Mara waited a few moments as the pleased silence stretched, then cleared her throat. “I take it I may sit up now?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”  They both moved to help her.  Mara shook her head and pushed herself up on her own, one arm going up to hold the blanket against her front.  Quinn’s arm slid around her shoulders for support.

Jaesa looked between them and blushed.  “I will leave you two alone.”

Mara shifted her gaze to Quinn as the door slid shut behind her.  “Well done, Malavai.”

“I hope I have not overstepped,” he said, ducking his head a little.

“Not at all.  You have been able to do something I could not,” Mara frowned thoughtfully as she carefully moved into a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.  “This is clearly where her strength lies.  I wonder if I should send her to study with my Aunt Reyna for a time.”

“Perhaps.  Jaesa could learn much about healing from her, although I worry the sudden change in companionship would undermine her confidence.”

“I will speak to Jaesa about it, introduce the idea slowly.  She will have to leave the nest eventually, and working with Reyna can push her into the world while keeping her amongst family.”  

Mara looked up at him again, sudden tears pricking her eyes.  His hands were still at her sides, offering support as her body reacclimated to supporting and moving itself.  She parted her knees and pulled him against her in a fierce hug.  His arms went around her in turn, one of his hands shifting up to hold her head.  

“I love you,” she murmured against his chest.

“And I love you,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

“I’ve missed this.  I don’t suppose we could just stay like this for three or four months.”

Her voice was plaintive as she said it.  That would not be possible, she knew.  There would be the next step in the campaign against the Revanites, then who knows what other threat would arise against the Empire.

“Actually…”

Mara pulled away slightly so she could see his face.  Quinn’s sense had darkened slightly, tension, annoyance - that had to be related to Theron - but also a tinge of relief.

“What is it?”

“The campaign against the Revanites is… not over, precisely, but suspended for the foreseeable future.”

“Lana and Theron…”

“Are fine,” he cut in gently.  “But the Revanites within the Republic and Empire have seen to it that they have been blamed for the events on Rakata Prime.  Lord Beniko is listed as kill on sight.  Even the Republic wants Agent Shan jailed.” Quinn’s lip twisted as he said Theron’s name.  Mara did not comment.  “They have gone to ground to continue their investigation.  They have sworn to contact you when they are ready to move against Revan himself.”

Mara digested the information for a moment.  “That is ridiculous.  I can talk to Marr; we both know what Lana did was lawful.”

“Darling…” His eyes changed, and suddenly he was her captain again, despite her nakedness and his arms around her.  “My lord, that is unwise.  Until we know how deeply into the Empire Revan has injected his followers, we cannot risk discussing it with anyone.  I agree with Lord Beniko in this.  The Revanites cannot prove your involvement on Rakata Prime; better to let you operate, continue as the Wrath, while she and Agent Shan keep digging for evidence and intelligence.”

Mara clenched her jaw.  “I am not accustomed to letting the Empire’s enemies run rampant.”

“No, nor I.  But in this case, it is a necessary and temporary evil.”

Mara nodded slowly.

“So we have time off.  What are we going to do with it?”

“I have taken the liberty of plotting a course for Dromund Kaas.”

“Dromund Kaas?” Mara responded dumbly.

“Yes, darling.  We are going home.”

Mara’s mind was overwhelmed with sense memories: thunder rumbling deep in her bones, the caress of mist on her skin, the smell of pine.  A smile slowly spread across her face.  She met her husband’s gaze, and other, more visceral sensations jumped into her mind.  He was studying her, questioning, hoping he had done the right thing.

“You are amazing,” she breathed, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth.  

He returned her ardor, one hand clutching her head and the other roaming down her back, his tongue clashing with hers.

After several long moments, he pulled away.  They both gasped for breath.

“I try, my love,” he answered her.

Mara rubbed her hands over his chest, wishing she could feel his skin under her hands, but knowing they had business to attend to first.  “I want to hold this thought,” she said.  “I need a full debriefing of what happened on Manaan, and I want to wash the smell of kolto off myself.”

“Of course,” he said, disappointment in his sense. “Shall I get you some clothes?”

“My robe will be sufficient,” she answered, running her hands down his back to grab his ass. “I don’t plan on wearing it that long.”

He groaned and leaned down to claim her mouth with his once more, gently bending her body back. When he pulled away she whimpered hungrily.

“To think on for later,” he whispered against her earlobe before leaving to get her robe.

A few moments later Mara was walking the common area of her ship, stiff but content. She found Vette on the bridge in the copilot’s chair, her feet on the console, a holofilm playing on the datapad in her hands. She sat up hurriedly when she saw Mara behind her.

“Hey boss. You look like you need to stretch.”

“Oh, I’ll be getting some exercise later,” Mara replied with a wink. Vette rolled her eyes.

“I am so glad your quarters are soundproof. Anyway what do you need?”

“I wanted to say thank you, for slicing my comm. I should have included you all in the planning.”

Vette smiled. “I'm happy to break the rules for you anytime.”

“Also, you remember those files you kept for me? I would like you to send them to me. I am ready to review them.”

Vette froze. “Are you sure? You guys are doing so well. And you know that was a one time incident, right? Quinn couldn't be more sorry for what he did if he tried.”

The files were recordings of the holocalls between Baras and Quinn, the calls that resulted in his betrayal. Mara had read Quinn’s report on the subject, but up until now had been too angry to review the video footage.

Mara put a hand on Vette’s shoulder. “I know. But I am strong enough now. I need to know what Baras did to him.”

Vette nodded slowly. “If you say so. I’ve watched them… They will piss you off. But not at Quinn.”

“Thank you, Vette.”

Mara turned and walked back to her quarters where Quinn was waiting.

* * *

 

The rumble of thunder mingled with the crackle of fire.  Mara sat in the center of a large, plush lounge chair facing the fire pit, her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the fire on her face and the misty cool of the overcast day on her back.  The courtyard outside their rooms on the Thrask estate had been designed for outdoor entertaining despite the omnipresent Dromund Kaas storms.  A force field overhead kept rain at bay, but mists and breeze could still move freely through the courtyard.  A heated mineral pool was set into the stone flooring several meters behind her, nearer the entrance to their bedroom.

It was early evening, and she could see the mists beginning to form higher up in the mountains behind their property.  Soon they would whisper down the slopes and into the courtyard, enveloping Mara in a cool embrace she missed when she travelled.  Barefoot and wearing a simple knee-length dress with thin straps, she awaited the sensation eagerly.  It had been over a year since she’d been home.

They had arrived on Dromund Kaas several hours ago.  Pierce had decamped to Kaas City to stay with some Black Ops buddies who had shore leave at the same time, while Jaesa and Vette accompanied Mara and Quinn to the Thrask estate.  She and Quinn hung back as Jaesa introduced Vette to her parents, giving the older couple time to adjust to Vette’s inimitable personality before joining the group and answering their eager questions about their daughter’s progress.  Despite the passage of time, neither was fully comfortable with their daughter becoming Sith - not even Jaesa’s definition of Sith - and their questions were always plentiful as a result.  It had taken Jesa and Quinn working together to disentangle Mara from the conversation.  The Willsaams were good people, if exhausting.

Quinn had effectively run interference for her as they settled back into their portion of the main house, shooing the steward away and intercepting Heulwen Thrask, Mara’s younger cousin and named heir,  before the young woman could guilt her into a girl’s night in.  Mara wanted to spend time with the young woman while she was here, but not before she'd spent a night in her own bed first.  She smiled to herself, remembering how deftly Quinn had handled her family - _their_ family, she reminded herself.  Five years ago he’d nearly crawled out of his skin, surrounded by people who treated him with uncomfortable familiarity because of his connection to their lady.  Now he truly treated them as if he’d spent his whole life here.

“May I join you?”  

Mara stirred.  “Of course.”  She turned to see him approaching, a bottle in one hand and two stacked tumblers in the other.  “I’m sorry if my brooding left you thinking I wished to be alone.”

Quinn shrugged. “I know how much you love the evenings here and how long we’ve been away; I did not wish to disturb your experience.”

Unlike Mara, Quinn was dressed properly for the chilly evening, having traded his uniform for a dark grey sweater and casual trousers.  She smiled and shifted over, making sure there was room for him next to her.  His warmth through that sweater would be the perfect compliment to the mists.

“You enhance the experience, Malavai,” she said.

She took the top glass from the stack in his hand and he filled each with a generous pour of Corellian whiskey. As he leaned down she realized how tired he looked.  Small wonder; both nights in hyperspace had contained long hours of slow, languorous sex and very little actual rest.  Restorative in all the ways they needed right now, but exhausting nonetheless. He set the bottle down next to the lounge and sat, scooting toward her to put an arm around her chilly shoulders.

They sat in silence for a time sipping their drinks, Mara enjoying the feel of him against her and the warmth of the whiskey building in her belly.  After a time, she cleared her throat.

“May I ask you something unpleasant, Malavai?”

She pulled away from him, sitting up and turning toward him so she could see his face.  There was a tightness around his eyes now, but he nodded.  “Of course.”

“What would you have done, had your droids been successful on the transponder station?”  

She held his gaze and reached out to touch his hand gently, hoping the physical contact would help anchor him.  She had found time and privacy to watch the holorecordings Vette had kept for her.  The younger woman was right; they did make her angry.  

Baras had not used the Force on Quinn so far as Mara could tell, but he hadn’t needed it; to call Baras manipulative was to call a turbolaser a light source.  After months of silence, he had methodically and ruthlessly drawn all of Quinn’s insecurities to the surface and amplified them, deconstructing him emotionally with a skill that left Mara wondering how much of her will had been her own during her time spent with her old master.  By the time of the last call, it was clear, to Mara at least, that her death had become a mere formality to their interactions.  However much he wanted her out of the way, Baras’s true enjoyment clearly lay with tormenting Quinn, an operative who had escaped his hold and sided with an unruly apprentice, as extensively as possible.

Mara was both relieved and furious that she’d already removed Baras’s head from his body.  After seeing his work on her husband, the end she had given her old master seemed far too quick and clean.

Quinn was still staring at her, horror creeping through his sense.  She gripped his hand tighter.  “Malavai, I ask for the sake of closure, not because I am angry.  But I need to know.”

He brought his glass to his lips and downed its full contents, forced himself to meet her gaze.  

“I had no intention of leaving the transponder station that day,” he said quietly.

Mara closed her eyes for a moment.  She could push him, make him say the words, but she didn’t need to.  An image flashed to her mind, of Quinn, the barrel of his blaster - a gift from her, she remembered - pressed to his temple, his finger curled around the trigger.

She heard a choked sob. It took her a moment to realize it came from her own mouth. She forced her eyes open. Quinn was watching her, his sense filled with sadness.

“Malavai…” She whispered.

“I’m sorry to give you more pain, Mara,” he said, touching her face with his free hand and letting drop back to his lap. “You must have suspected…  A quick death by my own hand is better than I deserved.”

“I prefer how things worked out,” she said.

“As do I, but that does not mean I deserve any of this. I was weak.”

“No,” she answered, her voice heated. “No you were not. I saw what Baras did to you, Malavai. Were he not dead already, I would kill him slowly for how he abused you.”

“That does not excuse my actions.  Whatever Baras said to me, this was far worse for you.”

“I agree. That you misjudged me so much hurt deeply,” she said, her heart clenching. “But I have seen over the past year how you have worked to learn from that mistake.”

She thought back to that day on the Korriban shuttle, when he had tried to push her into accepting medical attention for her injuries. He had pushed her too hard too fast, but the essence of what he had attempted - treating her and caring for her like an equal - was ultimately what she wanted from him. She grimaced, remembering her reaction.

“That you kept trying even when I made it difficult matters to me.”

“I will never stop striving to be worthy of your forgiveness,” he said, his gaze holding hers.

“And I will never stop striving to be worthy of yours,” she replied simply. He opened his mouth to waive away her guilt, but she cut him off gently. “I have hurt you. I used our intimacy and your love for me against you, just like Baras did. I deserve your anger for that, and I hope I will earn your forgiveness.”

He took her hand, tears in his blue eyes. “Oh Mara, of course I forgive you.”

She smiled and took a breath. “Don’t speak so quickly. There is something I must tell you. I have kept it a secret from, well, everyone. But if we are to move on from this, there must be no more secrets between us.”

He cocked his head. His eyes remained gentle, but he bit his lip nervously. He nodded, urging her on.

“I have told you that my mother died on Coruscant. While it is true she died there, she did not die fighting the Republic.” She paused again, took another breath and forced herself to meet her husband’s gaze. “She was executed for treason by Darth Malgus.”

He stiffened, but did not pull his hands from hers. “What were the circumstances, precisely?” His voice was so quiet, so calm, despite the storm that had erupted in his sense.

“She left her diplomatic posting on Alderaan and used her ship’s transponder, installed on an enemy vessel, to bring two Jedi to the temple to evacuate just under fifty Jedi younglings.” Mara felt her lip twist and her voice drop into a growl. “She dueled Malgus to buy them time to take off. When the ship was away, she threw away her lightsaber and submitted to his judgment. Apparently she thought that would make it better.”

Quinn pulled his hand out of hers, and Mara felt panic rising in her, worrying this was too much on top of the year they’d had. She calmed slightly when he picked up the whiskey bottle and poured another round for them both.

“What could possibly have possessed her to do such a thing?” He bit out.

“To this day I do not know, not really. She left me a letter, had it delivered here. She said she was directed by a Force vision she could not ignore, that what she did would be necessary to me one day.” Mara downed half the whiskey. “I don’t know what she saw, but it was clearly bantha shit.”

He touched her shoulder gently. Mara started, looked at her husband and belatedly realized the anger she felt from him was on her behalf, not directed at her.

“You were punished.” It was not a question.  

“The truth is I left Korriban before my trials because I was kicked out. Malgus wanted to execute me, too, but as the new head of my house, I retained the right to argue for my life before the Dark Council.”

“You were only a teenager,” he gasped.

“Sixteen,” she clarified, her stomach twisting at the memory. “Grieving, scared out of my mind. I felt her death days before I found out it was by execution.”

“But you convinced them,” Quinn was staring at her, his eyes wide, his voice soft.

Mara nodded, feeling herself blush. “I think they were motivated more by the possibility of using me than by charity.  Besides, once all of Thrask’s government contracts were cancelled, my house was on the verge of financial collapse. No one thought I’d live very long.”

Quinn chuckled.

“What?”

“The Dark Council clearly underestimated your stubbornness.”

Mara rolled her eyes. “It has served me well, thank you. My aunts and their eye for talent did most of the heavy lifting, though. If not for some quickly negotiated contracts with the Hutts, this house would be long gone.”

She shifted to look him in the eye. “That is my secret. Until now only I, my father, and the Dark Council knew. They sealed the matter, not wanting to taint the treaty being negotiated on Alderaan.”

“That treaty was taken up by Baras,” Quinn said quietly.

“I know,” Mara grimaced. “I have wondered how much he knew.  Vengean was privy to everything, of course, and Baras was his apprentice. I was summoned back to Korriban in secret by one of Baras’s enemies. But we both know he worked plans within plans.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was so used to not telling anyone. And you… I didn’t want you to leave,” she finished, her face fully aflame with a blush.

Quinn drained his glass and set it aside.  “I would not hold you responsible for your mother’s actions. Certainly not after seeing your loyalty demonstrated time and again. I’m just happy you survived and flourished, even.” He paused. “Did anything happen to Admiral Thrask?”

Mara shook her head. “The Council’s decision to seal the matter saved him from any repercussion, though Malgus was able to lean on Imperial Command to see that he was stationed as far away from home as possible for several years.”

Quinn took her free hand in his and spoke carefully.

“I hate to ask this, dear, but if your mother truly were acting on the direction of the Force…”

“How do I know I won’t do the same?  I do not have the same relationship with the Force that Mother did,” she said ruefully.  “To her it was always something mystical and alive, reciprocal.  For me it is different.  Dynamic, but… lacking sentience.  More to the point, I do not know of any other Sith Lord who committed treason purely at the behest of the Force.”  She downed the last of her whiskey.  “Mother’s treason has a singular distinction in that way.”

Mara sighed. “The worst part is I still miss her, and I hated Malgus for killing her. It was lawful. But she was….” Mara trailed off, her throat tightening around her words.  She cursed herself silently; after nearly fifteen years, how could this still hurt so much?

Quinn took the glass from her hand and set it aside, then pulled her to him for a hug. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

Mara pressed her face against his chest, letting the tears fall. “I wanted to be like her when I was a child.  You have no idea how humiliating that is now.”

He smoothed her hair. “From the stories you've told me, she was a loving parent and a powerful Sith. It's not surprising you would emulate that.”

“I’m just so glad you aren’t running away from me,” she said raggedly.

His hand kept moving over her scalp soothingly. “I would never,” he said. “I know you, darling, and I love you. I am afraid you are stuck with me.”

Mara’s crying quieted to sniffles. She slipped her arms around his middle and squeezed him. “I love you, too.”

The evening mist had crept into the courtyard as they talked. Mara felt its caress on her bare legs and Malavai’s warmth wrapped around her shoulders and back. She snuggled closer against him and sighed contentedly.

* * *

 

The sound of stirring wildlife yanked Quinn out of a deep sleep.  His eyes popped open to the view of a grey, pre-dawn sky.  Mara was curled up against him with both her arms wrapped around his right arm, pinning it slightly under her body.  Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, her hair bunched under his neck and flowing down her back.  Despite the moist cold that had seeped into his bones and the slight numbness in his right arm, he felt more rested than he had in weeks.

He reached across his body with his free hand and began stroking her hair, gently running his fingertips over her scalp, lost in thought.  So much of their life together had clicked into place with Mara’s revelation about her mother.  Every bit of the personal power he had seen his wife accumulate had always been re-focused in service of the greater Empire, an anomaly amongst the Sith as far as he could tell.  He had always assumed this to be a result of her upbringing, and certainly Mara took after her father when it came to her ideas about the relationship between the Sith and the rest of Imperial society.  But with that last bit of information he could now see a portrait of a woman who, desperate to shed her mother’s shame, had zealously dedicated herself and her power to the Empire as a whole.

They were more alike than he could have guessed.

She had not been completely wrong in hiding the truth from him, Quinn reflected with some chagrin.  As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, if she had told him four years ago, he may well have written her off as tainted by the association.  He cringed inwardly, remembering the unbending, uptight fool he had been then, his narrow mind too full of the letter of the law to see its spirit.  He had seen immediately how Mara reawakened his passion for his work, but that had not prepared him for how deeply and irrevocably their connection would change him.  He had no idea that he could ever truly give her as much as she’d given him, but he would spend the rest of his days working tirelessly to do so.

Mara stirred against him and sighed softly in her sleep.  She arched herself against his captive arm, gripping his hand between her thighs.  His own body twitched in response to the sound and to feeling her, wet against his hand.  He felt himself smile.  Flexibility was not the only thing she brought out in him.  He craned his neck to drop a kiss onto her head and tried to pull his arm out of her grasp so he could shift onto his side.  Her hands and thighs tightened their grip.  He froze, looking down at her suspiciously.

“I need that,” she murmured without opening her eyes.

“If you keep restricting my blood flow like that, you will find it quite useless to you,” he answered dryly.

She shifted again, pushing her body upward, rubbing herself against his arm as she did so.  She opened her eyes and lifted her head, a mischievous smirk on her face.

“You’d be surprised what I can work with,” she replied, loosening her grip.

“You are insatiable,” he said, pulling his arm out from under her to cradle her face with both hands.

“Husband, I do believe you were about to wake me up for sex.”

“Your influence, clearly.”

She chuckled, and stretched up to kiss him, her lips soft on his.  He moved his hands down her back, reaching for the closure on the back of her dress.  As he did so, she sagged against him slightly.  He pulled back, his hands on her sides.

“What is it?”

She grimaced.  “My knee is protesting,” she said.

He opened his mouth, but she put a finger to his lips, her eyes sparkling.  

“I can manage it with the Force.  Don’t you dare think you are getting out of this.”

He laughed. “I would not dream of it, Mara.  However, I think a change of venue would be helpful to both of us.” He sat up slightly, taking her with him, and nodded toward the mineral pool behind them.  It was spewing warm steam out into the cool Dromund Kaas morning.

She followed his gaze, then turned back to him.

“I don’t know why I question you at all, Malavai.”

She sat up fully and scooted to the end of the lounge and unlaced the low boots he was wearing, then pulled them off.  His socks followed.  She reached out a hand and pulled him off the lounge, leading him across the courtyardl.  They stopped next to the mineral pool, and she reached behind her to unzip her dress.

“Wait,” he said, his hands going to her shoulders to turn her so she was facing away from him.  “Allow me.”

He gently pushed her hair forward over her shoulder, his hands lingering on her neck as he did so.  He heard her slight intake of breath at his touch.  He tugged the closure open as far down as it would go, revealing the ridges running down her spine and the top of her arse.  Unsurprisingly, she had decided against undergarments yesterday evening.

He slid his hands inside her dress to grip her waist and pulled her closer, until she was firmly pressed against him.  He placed a lingering kiss on the back of her neck, tasting her skin against his tongue.  She whimpered, her hands covering his through the fabric of her dress.  He smiled against her skin and worked his way slowly down her spine, pausing at each ridge to kiss its full shape before moving on to the next.  He slowly bent her body forward, cradling her with an arm across her middle.  As he bent to kiss the small of her back, he reached down with his free hand, sliding his palm over the curve of her backside and between her legs, where he ran his fingers lightly over her wet cunt.

  He felt her stomach muscles tighten when she gasped at his touch and spread her legs, allowing him better access to her.  He slid two fingers into her teasingly, just up to the first knuckle, before pulling his hand away entirely and helping her straighten.

“Gods, Malavai,” she moaned, grinding against him.

As she straightened, her dress fell off her shoulders and fluttered to the ground. He hugged her from behind, one hand sliding around to trace slow circles over her clit, the other reaching up to cup one of her breasts, pinching the nipple harshly.

“Yes, darling?”

He buried his face in her neck, finding the tender flesh behind her jaw and showering it with kisses and bites, every tiny noise she made setting his body on fire.

“I want you,” she groaned.

He pulled away from her, noting the raised welt he had left on her neck, purple against her red skin, and she turned, her hands sliding under his sweater to trace his skin just above the waist of his pants. His breath caught.  She leaned closer, her cheek against his, and took his earlobe between her teeth. He closed his eyes and groaned softly.

She grabbed the hem of both his sweater and undershirt and yanked them upward without warning. The fabric caught on his chin.  He laughed and reached down to help her, pulling both over his head and fumbling his arms free of the sleeves. He unbuckled his belt next, pushing his trousers and underpants down to his ankles and stepping out of them.

She stood within arm's length, staring at him hungrily, before reaching out and lightly running her fingers along the underside of his cock.  He gasped at her touch. She continued teasing him, smirking at the groans she drew from him, then took his hand and pulled him toward the mineral pool. She stopped him when he was on the top step, ankle deep in the warm water, and she a few steps below him.

She grinned up at him, gripping his cock in one hand, before stepping forward and licking his full length.

“Kriff,” he moaned as she tightened her lips around the head of his cock.

She pressed down onto him fully until he could feel the back of her throat, feel her tighten around him rhythmically.  His eyes rolled back in his head, and he concentrated mightily on keeping his knees from buckling with pleasure.  She pulled back.

“Stars you taste good,” she murmured before pushing him back in.

He reached down and twined his fingers in her hair, holding her still as he luxuriated in the feel of her.  Almost involuntarily, he began moving against her, sliding into and out of her mouth with a steady rhythm. Her fingernails drew lines of fire up his legs, making his hair stand on end.

After a few moments he pulled away and took the last few steps into the chest-deep pool.  The warm water immediately chased the chill from his bones and loosened his muscles.  Mara glided toward him, her hair trailing behind her in the water.  He caught her with both arms and her legs went around his waist, pinning his still-hard cock between them.  She bit his shoulder gently and hugged him close.

“This was a good idea,” she murmured.

“I’m glad you approve,” he replied, running his hands up the outsides of her thighs.  

She shuddered against him.  He shifted his grip on her thighs and lifted her up, sliding easily into her. They both groaned, Mara wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead to his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against him.  He could feel her muscles tighten around him as her clit was pressed against his body, her lips brushing his teasingly as she moaned.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” he demanded playfully against her lips.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” She responded, nipping at his lower lip and pulling herself upward slightly before resettling on his cock.

He growled and shifted his grip to her ass, lifting her off of him and then slowly pushing back in.  She groaned with every centimeter of him that entered her.  As he buried himself in her fully, she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him, her teeth raking his bottom lip.

“You like that,” he gasped out between kisses, lifting her off of him slowly again.

“Fuck, yes I do,” she gasped back.

He kept going, taking long, slow strokes in her, feeling his pleasure build both from the sensation of her cunt, but also from the long, low moans he was drawing out of her.  She had wrenched her lips from his and had her face buried in his neck; he wasn’t entirely sure she had stopped to draw breath in the last few moments.

“Faster,” she ordered.

“But you like this,” he teased back, pausing with the head of his cock poised at her entrance, pushed in slightly, only to draw out again.

She whined against him.

“Please.” Mara’s teeth nipped at his earlobe.  “Dear gods, Malavai, I want to fuck you.”

“Since you asked so nicely, my love” he whispered, kissing her neck as he pulled her back down onto him as fast as the water would allow,   

The feeling of her body colliding with his made him cry out.  She responded in kind and used her legs around his waist to ride him at her own pace, in quick, short movements that never let his cock out of her body and sent water splashing around them.  Quinn groaned raggedly, nearly overwhelmed him with sensation and the need to feel all of her at once.  He dragged his fingertips up the flesh of her back and then grabbed one of her breasts, digging his nails into her nipple until she cried out.  All the while he trailed kisses and bites from her shoulder up her neck to her earlobe, then down to her collar bone.

She was grunting and moaning rhythmically now, swirling her hips a little to grind her clit against him with each thrust.  She gripped handfuls of his hair tightly as her moans gained both volume and pitch, signaling her orgasm was close.  She pulled his head up from her shoulder and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth hungrily.  He returned her passion, exploring her mouth in turn.  His hands slid back down to her ass to guide her movements and give her more traction for dragging her clit against his body.  He squeezed her tightly.

He wrenched his lips from hers, pulling back just enough look into her amber eyes.

“Malavai,” she whimpered, her voice turning upward in pitch.

“Look at me when you come, Mara,” he whispered harshly.

He watched her face shift as the first hints of orgasm hit, her lips parting to emit a quiet gasp and her brows furrowing as her eyes narrowed but did not close.

The sound she made when she came - the guttural, screaming moan - tore through him like wildfire and he followed her over the edge.  He cried out her name as he thrust inside her one last time and came, holding her gaze the entire time.

They panted together, riding the aftershocks of their climax together.  She shifted one hand from his sodden hair to cradle his face, a ragged laugh escaping her.  He let his eyes slide closed, then, pressing his face into her hand and trying to regain his fine motor skills.  After a moment he shook himself and moved toward one of the benches along the edge of the pool.  He eased himself out of her, drawing another strangled whimper from them both, and cradled her against him as he sank onto the bench.  The water of the pool closed around them both just past the shoulders.

They sat like that for a long time, their arms tangled around each other and their heads pressed together as the sun rose over them.  Quinn could not say for certain whether or not they both dozed off, but he certainly lost track of time; when he stirred, he realized his skin was pruning from the water.

“I am fairly certain the whole house heard us,” Mara murmured against his neck.

His own lack of reaction to that statement surprised him.  Or, rather, the reaction he had was not what he expected: pride.

“You told me once it was good for people to know their lady was happy,” he responded lightly, smiling down at her.

She opened her eyes and stared at him, her mouth dropping open slightly.  He laughed and kissed her lower lip.

“If you keep preening like that I shall make you do it again,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that a promise, Lady Thrask?”

She laughed delightedly and pulled his lips to hers.

 

 


End file.
